Fire and Wind
by Tsukinori Kaze
Summary: Ryoma is fire. Ever burning right beneath the surface. Fuji is wind. Calm and gentle, yet perhaps the most deadly force of all. Fire and Wind shouldn't mix. It's not a good idea. Too bad life isn't always as simple as "right" and "wrong."
1. Prelude: Rain

_Prelude: Rain _

It all started with the rain. It hadn't been anything before that. A pat on the back after a particularly good match. A smile (a fake one, of course) when he said something unusually amusing.

Maybe even a nod in the hallway. Maybe.

But the rain, Ryoma soon realized, had a way of changing things. Of destroying things, and at the same time, of bringing things to life.

After that match in the rain, something changed. Everything changed.

After that day, there was only one person in the entire world who mattered when Ryoma stepped off that court.

And Ryoma hated himself for it. It didn't matter that before that day, Ryoma hadn't even liked Fuji. It didn't matter that the younger boy found that ever present smile infuriating.

And it didn't matter that Ryoma still held Tezuka above him. It didn't matter that when they were on that court, Fuji might as well have been invisible.

None of it mattered. Because the rain changed everything.

Ryoma remembered every detail. Every sound of Fuji's sneakers sliding across the slick court, every gleam in those piercing crystal orbs, every strand of honey brown hair that plastered itself to his opponent's smooth, flawless porcelain forehead.

Ryoma remembered that day in the rain. And he remembered that the way he saw Fuji after that day had nothing to do with tennis.

And for Echizen Ryoma, it was always about the tennis. Always. At least, on the first layer.

But beneath the silence, there was something else. There was the truth.

And the truth was Echizen Ryoma was hopelessly ensnared by Fuji Syusuke.


	2. Questions

_God fucking damn it._

Ryoma managed, barely, to keep the profanity inside of his head. It was entirely too early to be having this discussion. And it was about ninety-seven degrees in the clubroom, which really didn't do anything to improve Ryoma's mood.

Really. Morning practice. Tezuka should be stoned to death.

"But _ochibi!_ You have to come!" Kikimaru's squeal permeated the protective layer around Ryoma's brain and the younger boy winced.

"Senpai, I already told you no."

"But- but-." Eiji's wide eyed pout was truly pathetic, and if Ryoma had turned to look, he would have seen it.

But Ryoma was too busy tying his shoes. In fact, he was so focused on tying his shoes one would have thought it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Senpai, you're going to be late for practice. Buchou will make you run laps again."

The acrobatic player stuck out his lower lip, and his perky hair seemed to droop a little.

"You're so mean, ochibi! Why won't you come?"

Ryoma could feel his temper shortening, and if it had been anyone but Kikimaru, he would've long since snapped. But it really was hard to get mad at someone who radiated so much positive energy, even if it was annoying at times…like say right now.

"Because," he said, trying to remain as calm as possible. "I don't want to. It's none of my business. I'm not a third year."

The older boy made a sound in the back of his throat, it was the closest thing to a sneer one was every likely to hear from Eiji.

"Ochibi, why do you have to be like this? I _told_ you it was okay! I want you there! Momo and Kaidoh are coming too!"

Ryoma's eye twitched. He had tied both of his shoes as tightly as humanely possible, and he was running out of patience, fast.

"I'm. Not. Going."

"But ochibi-!"

"Eiji!" A familiar voice rang out, filling the clubroom with a resounding echo. Ryoma didn't have to look to see that it was Oishi.

He straightened; glad to be free of Eiji's pestering. At least for now.

The vice captain's face was stern, and his forehead was knitted into a frown.

"What are you two still doing in here? Practice started ten minutes ago!"

Ryoma sighed and nodded, pulling his cap forward so it obscured his eyes. "Sorry, Oishi-senpai. I'm going."

_Fantastic. Now, in addition to it being seven o' clock in the morning, I get to run fifty laps around the courts. Thank you so much, Senpai_.

As if to emphasis his point, he shot his elder a semi-mild glare. But Kikimaru wasn't looking at him.

His dark eyes were fixed, firmly, on Oishi. All of his laughing disposition was gone. He was, plain and simple, staring Oishi down. His mouth was a flat line and it almost seemed like he was daring his doubles partner to say another word.

Oishi didn't. In fact, his round face was slightly flushed and his olive eyes were conveniently located a few centimeters from Eiji's head.

Ryoma frowned. Uh-oh. This close to nationals…the last thing the team needed was Golden Pair drama.

Eiji sneered, a true, honest to goodness sneer, and Ryoma's mouth all but fell open. He hadn't even know his Senpai could make such a sound. Then again…the look in the cat boy's eyes was enough to freeze hell. It even made Ryoma shiver a little.

_Are you serious?_

Was this the same less than mature boy that had been pestering him two minutes ago about some stupid party?

"Um...Kikimaru-senapi, Oishi-senpai...we should go to practice..."

The tension in the air was so thick it was nearly suffocating.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Oishi turned stiffly and exited the club room, footsteps echoing on the tile floor.

Ryoma bit his lip slightly and cast his gaze on his other senpai. The acrobat boy's face was unreadable. Without another word, he passed Ryoma and then he too was gone.

The young prodigy groaned inwardly. _As if practice today wasn't going to be bad enough_.

Immediately, a flash of blue appeared before Ryoma's eyes. He shook his head. No.

This wasn't about...him. This was about the tennis.

It had to be.

And then, racket slung over his shoulder, Ryoma squared his shoulders and left the humid club room, slamming the door behind him.


	3. Denial

_**Author's Note: I'm not really a big fan of author's notes, I think they are annoying. But this is important. Thank you for those who have reviewed! Okay, that's it. Enjoy the story. Also, if anyone needs a beta…I'm here. **_

Ryoma could hardly form his lips to say "sorry" before he was running around the courts, arms and legs pumping, chest heaving, and scowl etched onto his face.

He glared at the redheaded senpai who ran a little in front of him. The sun beat down on his small frame, and his thick bangs stuck to his forehead in tufts.

_Kikimaru-senpai, this is all your fault. Why the hell is it so hard to take no for an answer? How hard is it to see that the last thing I need right now is to be locked in a house with- _

Ryoma promptly shut off his train of thought. No. No. That was specifically against the rules. His mind protested, and his subconscious offered up a memory. A memory Ryoma spent every waking moment trying to forget. But it came anyway, because he couldn't control it. It seemed he couldn't control much of anything these days.

_The way he looked that day…the fire in his eyes that still managed to chill like ice…the sound of his silent laughter as he danced across the court like a creature far to beautiful to be human... _

"Echizen, that's twenty five. That will do." Tezuka's calm, yet firm voice floated to him as if on a cloud.

Ryoma blinked twice, trying to clear his head of the fog that had suddenly taken him over. He turned his eyes to his captain, irritation mounting. Tezuka wasn't even looking at him. The young prodigy followed his captain's gaze, and a bitter taste filed his mouth.

_Of course. _

Tezuka was looking at Fuji. The brown haired tensai was practically taking a stroll in the park across the court, returning Arai's shots with practiced ease. The smile was still on his face. And it made Ryoma sick.

The match could've been over by now if only Fuji would play. Really play, like Ryoma knew he could. But no. That was reserved. For someone other than him. For someone who was so similar to Ryoma that it was almost painful. For Tezuka. Ryoma burned for Tezuka, burned until it almost ripped him limb from limb. And Tezuka was the same for him.

So what was the problem? Why was it still so complicated? Fuji shouldn't matter. It wasn't Fuji Ryoma long to surpass. But it was Fuji who filled his dreams, Fuji who crept into his mind whenever he wasn't completely intent on blocking it out- and even then. It was Fuji's whose smile made something within him sicken.

Ryoma had no idea why. He didn't know why he hated the tensai and thought him miraculously beautiful at the same time. Was that even possible? To love and hate with every fiber of your being?

_No. It's not love. It has nothing to do with that. It's just his tennis. I can't stop thinking about that match- that's all. _

"Oy! Echizen! Are you going to stand there staring all day or are you actually planning on playing some tennis?"

Momoshiro bounded up to the other side of the fence, directly opposite of where Ryoma stood, staring.

"Echizen! What's up with you today?"

Ryoma tugged his hat down over his eyes to cover his eyes and focused very hard on the ground in front of him.

"Stop being so loud, Momo-senpai."

***************************************************

The rest of practice was a hazy blur for Ryoma. He had narrowly avoided having his face dislocated by Momo's dunk smash because he was too disoriented to focus. Though out of it as he was, even he hadn't been able to miss the palpable tension between the Golden Pair.

Honestly, the two had played like they'd never even see each other before. 6-0 to Inui and Kaidoh. 6-0. Ryoma couldn't even remember a time when he'd seen them play so badly.

The most disturbing part was that neither of them had seemed to care. Oishi hadn't tried to give Eiji a pep talk, and Eiji hadn't jumped once. He barely even ran. It was as if they were falling apart and didn't have a problem with it.

Thank god it was raining. No one wanted to deal with another practice right now. The thick drops slid down the window and the sky was darkening. The teacher finally stopped his rambling long enough to realize that no one was listening anymore.

The man sighed and pushed his glasses back. "Very well, class. Due to the weather, I'm going to let you all out so you can get home before it gets any worse. Don't forget the homework."

The young tennis star was usually one of the last people out of the classroom, but today he was the first one out the door. No dallying today, no practice, no nothing. He was going home.

The last thing Echizen Ryoma wanted to do was think about the rain.

_**Author's Note: Please tell me if I'm overdoing the symbolism. I really wanted to get this chapter out, but if it sucks, I'd like to know so the next one doesn't suck. The next chapter will tie up some lose ends, like the party Eiji asked about in Chapter 1. Chapters will get much longer very soon and we're about to hear what Fuji thinks of all of this. You'll see…stay tuned! **_


	4. Midnight Whispers

_**Author's Note: All of you have added me to your Story Alert list, I'm very grateful. Please leave your opinions when you have a chance. "Fire and Wind" is now in the Thrill Pair Community Archive. Enjoy…**_

There wasn't anything to be done. The incessant rain kept its methodic, steady rhythm going all through the afternoon and Echizen Ryoma had just about given up hoping. It hadn't let up since the other day…damn it. He was supposed to play Momo-senpai in a match at seven, at the street courts where the duo had their disastrous doubles affair. But… Ryoma cast a sullen glance out the window and sighed, shutting his eyes for an instant and pulling down his trademark white cap…that didn't look like it was going to happen. He wondered if he should call Momo-senpai and tell him the game was off.

Ryoma snorted after giving the notion a bit more thought. Please. Even that grandiose bakka would probably realize that it was impossible to play when Ryoma couldn't walk outside without being submerged to his calves in filthy water.

The black haired boy cursed mentally. He had, as much as he'd never admit it, been looking forward to playing his moronic teammate. The past week had been less than relaxing and Ryoma had been more than ready to do some venting…in the form of tennis, of course.

_What else?_ The stoic boy thought, and laughed softly to himself. The thought of him having a conversation with Momo that was beyond a grade 3 level was amusing. Sure, the two had their…Ryoma nearly choked on his Ponta… "Sentimental" moments, but they were always cryptic and in some way, related to tennis. Ryoma couldn't recall a time when he'd talked…seriously…with any of his classmates about something that did not relate to tennis.

Not that it bothered him. After all, it was mostly his fault. When Ryoma did choose to grace the world with his speech, it was usually tennis related. "Usually" jumped to "Practically Always", if the sentence was longer than seven words.

There was, however, an exception. Ryoma's golden green eyes narrowed slightly as he tossed the grape flavored beverage can into the trashcan, pushing his chair out at the same time.

He didn't want to think about that. Or rather, think about him.

Ryoma shuffled out of the kitchen, rubbing his pale elbows. _Damn it._ He really had been hoping for some release. He hadn't been able to play seriously at all this week, not even in practice. He hadn't been able to play with his idiot father, either.

And it was all Fuji's fault. Damn it. He'd just about had enough of this.

He had to finish what he started with Fuji, or he was going to go insane. It was the only way.

Mumbling to himself, Ryoma made his way upstairs to bathe. He had made up his mind.

Tomorrow, he would finish this.

*************************************************************

Kikimaru Eiji was in one of his rare serious moods. In fact, he was downright pissed off. And it was all because of his evil, manipulative, son of a bitch best friend.

Said best friend stood next to him, that genial smile still on his face, eyes crinkled in their usual half moons.

His golden brown hair framed his face. Eiji sighed. It was hard to stay mad at someone that beautiful.

A fact that Syuusuke was more than aware of, and he used it to its full advantage.

And Eiji, more than anything, wanted to knock that façade of a smile right off of Fuji's face.

"Fuji." Eiji's voice was as steely as one was ever likely to hear it. "I'm not playing. Why the FUCK did you wake me up at two a.m.?" The acrobatic cat boy could practically feel his hair bristling, and he tugged at his pajamas impatiently.

He liked sleeping. And goddamn it, he hated nothing more than being woken up. Especially by annoying bastards who could've just as easily waited until morning. For Christ's sake. They were in the same class.

Fuji blinked once, mouth turning into a gentle "oh".

"Saa…Eiji, you should lock your window if you don't want late night visitors. Or maybe…you do want someone to…intrude…"

Eiji paled in horror, a giant bead of sweat forming at the back of his head. Fuji's smile stretched into that sadistic grin.

He _knew_ that Fuji had noticed his affection for his doubles partner. Nothing got by the tensai, after all. Hell, even dense Momo had probably noticed by now. But the two of them had never talked about it and Eiji wasn't sure if he was ready to yet.

The red head averted his eyes slightly; unable to fight the flush that graced his cheeks.

Fuji stopped short of causing his friend any more horror. "Eiji…you're so cute."

Eiji only blushed more and muttered something about "seventh level of hell."

Fuji's smile was still in place when Eiji returned his eyes to the not-so- welcome visitor.

Really. Only Syuusuke Fuji would think of climbing through a window at two o' clock in the morning simply to annoy someone else. Even Eiji, who was no stranger to mischief, would have to think twice before doing something like that.

Sighing, the red head resigned himself to the fact that the tensai was here, and he didn't seem to have any plans to leave soon. He sank onto the bed and pulled his knees to his chest.

"You better have a damn good reason for this, Fuji."

The tensai's smile disappeared, mouth turning into a flat line. Eiji was instantly more alert. Fuji dropping the smile also meant that he was dropping the bullshit.

His classmate lowered himself onto the bed and pulled his legs under him. The tennis prodigy was already wearing his school uniform, albeit without the jacket.

Eiji, as usual, tried to keep the mood light.

"Okay, Fuji-kun." He tacked on the affectionate ending as gentle tease, and the lines around Fuji's mouth eased slightly.

"So, what's wrong, ne? You don't normally do this…well, at least not to _me._" Eiji grimaced slightly.

It was so like Fuji to push him like this. It was the tensai's game. Push push push…and count on the fact that it would never break.

Fuji turned to meet Eiji's curious, wide eyed if slightly groggy gaze. His azure eyes were open and lovely, and they had a sort of gentleness in them that Eiji rarely saw.

"Eiji…you know I love you, don't you?"

The taller boy's mouth dropped open slightly. "Eh.."

Fuji didn't give him a chance to say anything else, because he leaned forward quickly and pressed his lips to Eiji's.

Eiji's eyes widened and he sucked in, hard. _Fuji! N…no! I- I can't do this…_

Before Eiji had a chance to move, the kiss was over and Fuji was sitting in his previous position, eyes flat.

"Don't take that the wrong way, Eiji." He said softly. "There was nothing romantic about it."

Eiji's face was a brilliant red, and he clutched his heart, struggling to control his breathing.

"F-fuji…what the hell…is wrong with you? Are you _trying_ to kill me?"

Fuji laughed softly. "If anything ever happened to you Eiji, I would personally destroy the person responsible."

Eiji frowned slightly at the sudden switch in mood. Jesus. Having the tensai with him was usually comforting…Fuji's calm but incredibly palpable aura kept him grounded. And on rare occasion's, when Eiji could manage to read past Fuji's cryptic smiles, he found something that made it all worthwhile.

Though he had no idea what that _something _was.

"Fuji…you have fifteen seconds to tell me what you wanted to tell me before I go back to sleep…"

Eiji groaned as he looked at the clock. Three o' clock. So much for beauty rest.

"I really hate you, sometimes, Fuji."

Fuji closed his eyes and smiled gently.

"Eiji…you know how I feel about Tezuka, don't you?"

The cat boy's scowl dropped from his face. A somber expression replaced it, and he chose his next words carefully. He had always known that Fuji was…obsessed…. there was no other word for it, with Tezuka. The two of them had never really discussed it outright, but just as Fuji was more than aware of Eiji's devoted and rather obvious love for Oishi, it was an implied fact that both of them knew.

"I saw the way you looked at him, Fuji. Just like nothing escapes the prodigy…nothing escapes these eyes of mine." Eiji tapped his right eye for emphasis.

"But…" Eiji hesitated.

Fuji turned those piercing eyes toward him, and Eiji swallowed. The strange gentleness was still there.

"But…" Fuji said softly, voice calm but not as steely as it usually was.

"I always thought…" the cat boy twirled a spiky strand of hair around his finger and shifted his eyes away from the tensai's. " I always thought that you didn't actually…_love_ him…I thought that it was more of an…"

_Obsession? Yeah, that would go over well._

"More of a game…."

Eiji immediately regretted his phrasing the moment the words passed his lips.

Fuji was silent for a long time. The minutes ticked by and Eiji's nervousness grew. He chewed his lip nervously, growing genuinely concerned. There were not many things that could make his best friend speechless. Though Fuji didn't say much, there was always something going on behind those eyes. But now, Fuji's eyes were…empty.

Eiji immediately resorted to Plan B…make a joke of it and hope that it would blow over.

But before Eiji could crack some incredibly witty remark, the tensai spoke.

"Saa…Eiji. You really do have the best eyes, don't you?"

Kikimaru could only gape, fatigue all but forgotten. _What? _

His classmate shut his eyes and let the constant smile drift back onto his face.

"I'm obsessed with him." He stated this as if he were talking about the weather. "I always have been. Ever since I can remember. Everything has always been about Tezuka. My tennis has always been about Tezuka. About getting him to see it. Not just to acknowledge my skills, but to chase after me. I've always wanted him to chase me like I've been chasing him for the least three years."

The tensai paused, and Eiji was hard pressed not to pull his friend into his arms.

"But he won't. I know that know. In fact, I knew it then but that didn't stop me. I'm too much like him. I'm too calm, too predictable, and too coolly apathetic. I'm not nearly enough to interest him."

"N-no!" Eiji couldn't help it; he blurted it out before he could stop himself. "Fuji, you're anything but predictable! And the last thing you are is boring! Fuji, out of everyone you're the one who no one can figure out! You're the one who no one gets! You're the mystery who everyone wants to solve!" The cat boy's face was red by now, and he was all but standing on the bed.

Fuji's smile didn't falter. "Saa…. everyone. Except Tezuka."

And to that, Kikimaru Eiji had nothing to say.

"Gomen, Eiji. I didn't come here to complain. I came to ask you a question." Fuji could've been ordering sushi. There it was. The reason people were drawn to him.

That infuriating coolness, the way that everything got to him and at the same time, nothing did. The way he was so very simple and yet there was not a soul in the world who really understood him.

Eiji could only sink back to the bed, eyes wide and mouth open.

"I wanted to know if you would do me a favor."

The younger boy groaned, twitching his nose and scrunching his mouth.

"_Fuji!" _ he whined, stretching out the word. "I already asked him seventeen times. Ochibi isn't coming to your party. As in, the party you asked _me_ to have."

Fuji contemplated this for a moment, before cocking his head to the side. "Maybe we shouldn't have told him it was third year party…I just thought that'd make it sound more exciting."

"Nya…I'm _tired_, Fuji…"

"Gomen, Eiji. I'll go."

Eiji felt the wait shift on the bed and he knew the tensai had risen. "Fuji…I'm sorry…"

"No, I'm sorry Eiji, for asking you to arrange this for me. I'll ask him myself. You have enough to worry about right now."

The cat boy sprung to attention, sitting up and staring at his best friend. A chill ran down his spine. Did he know about Oishi? About what he'd done? About what _they'd _done?

"What are you talking about?" He tried desperately to sound casual, but it felt as if his heart had leapt into his mouth.

Fuji had already opened the window and his legs dangled outside. He half turned back to Eiji, and his piercing blue eyes were soft.

"You may have the best eyes, Eiji, but mine aren't bad either."

And with that, the prodigy dropped out of site, just as silently as he'd come.

Eiji tried not to think. He tried to block everything out and drift back into the world of dreams. But it didn't work.

He couldn't get Oishi out of his head. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, but he held them back, snuggling deeper under the covers.

_Damn it, Oishi…why won't you look at me anymore? _

***********************************************************

_**Author's Note: A bit longer than the others, ne? Thank you to all who read and subscribe. It really means a lot. Keep reading…there are many issues that need to be resolved. Fuji's feelings for Tezuka, Ryoma's feelings for Fuji, Eiji's mysterious fight with Oishi? What happened between them? And what does this party have to do with anything? You'll see…hah hah hah…**_


	5. Confrontation Part I

_**Author's Note: Everyone, I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! I had the curse of writer's block! Make sure to review- if you feed the review whore she will be faster to put out. Hahah. Enjoy~! **_

*******************************************************************

It wasn't raining when Ryoma woke up in the morning. It was a lucky thing for everyone around him, because he probably would've snapped if it had been.

But it was beautiful day. The sunlight streamed through the tennis prodigy's window, illuminating the usually dim room. His bath yesterday had eased much of the tension, and the lack of late night visions about a certain tensai much improved his disposition. In fact, he hadn't felt this good in days.

He dragged a hand through his unruly hair, debating whether or not to attempt attacking it with a comb today.

Surprisingly enough, he opted to forgo combing and skipped straight to basic essentials. (And no, as far as Ryoma was concerned, combing his hair was not a basic essential)

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he padded down the hallway, Karupin nipping gently at his heels.

_"Meow." _

"Karupin, that tickles…" he mumbled under his breath, stepping into the vacant bathroom. After ten minutes of splashing cold water on his face, Ryoma dubbed himself awake enough to get dressed without ripping a hole in his pants.

He shuffled back to his room, wishing ardently for Tezuka's slow, painful death at the hands of rabid fan girls. Only _after _they violated him, of course.

Morning practice. Again.

Ryoma knew it was close to Nationals and all, but for Christ's sake. Seven o' clock? It was already six thirty, according to the clock on the wall.

Great. That meant he got to skip breakfast as well. Oh, joy.

Ryoma gave the mangled bed a cursory glance, before deciding that it simply wasn't worth it to be a neat freak today.

Karupin nipped at his heels again as he pulled his pajamas over his head, exposing a pale, lightly muscled chest.

"What is it, Karupin? Ow! Karu, that hurts!"

The dark haired boy scooped up his cat in one fluid motion and glared at the animal, but gently. As much as he hated to admit it, he loved this little cat more than life itself.

"Why are you so grumpy today?"

Karupin gave Ryoma look that was suspiciously human. Like a mother warning her child to stay out of the street.

Ryoma smirked. "Okay, Karu. I'll be careful."

***********************************************

_Shit. I hate you so much sometimes, Tezuka._

Two minutes. Two bloody minutes he was late, and he had to fun fifty laps. Seigaku's captain hadn't even blinked issuing the order either.

He could hear Momo, Kawamura, and Kikimaru panting behind him. The steady beat of their feet against the pavement kept Ryoma's head clear and allowed him to ignore the steady burning in his legs.

Of course, Fuji had been on time. Early, to be precise. Fifteen minutes early. Ryoma cursed the tensai in his head. Did he live to make the rest of them look like vagabonds?

The first year regular hardly noticed that someone had come up beside him until a high pitched voice pierced his eardrums.

_Oh, no. Oh god no. _

"Ochibi!"

"No." Ryoma panted, hardly missing a beat. He kept his eyes straight ahead, tugging his trademark cap down so that his face was shadowed.

His upbeat senpai clucked his tongue. "Nya, so mean ochibi. It isn't good manners, it isn't."

Ryoma stopped running, heart slamming against his rib cage with every breath. That was forty-eight. It Tezuka had a problem, he could shove it. If he'd felt like running he would've joined the track team.

Momoshiro stopped next to him, purple eyes glinting, sweat soaking the front of his shirt. "You should be nicer to your senpai, Echizen. After all the burgers you've filched from Kikimaru-senpai." The spiky haired boy shook his head, smirk sliding across his face.

Ryoma glared at him. _Just great. Now Momo-senpai's in on it too. _

"Momo-senpai, you're the one who orders the most."

His elder pretended to be offended, and against his will, a smile tugged at the corner of Ryoma's lips. Leave it to Momo and Kikimaru to annoy the hell out of him and restore his good mood all at once.

Said red haired acrobat tugged at his clothing and jutted out his lower lip, much like a child would. "Ochibi, graduation is in two months. This will be one of the last times we'll get to do stuff like this…"

Momo nodded and caught his junior in a headlock, rubbing the top of the olive colored mane of hair.

"You're so mean, Echizen, so mean. You can't even go to a party for your senpai-tachi!"

"Momo-senpai, that hurts!" The olive haired boy squirmed piteously, but to no avail. He was trapped.

Suddenly, Momo released him, jumping back as if he'd been burned. Ryoma shot his elder an icy glare, but his expression quickly changed to one of horror as he saw why his senpai had released him.

Tezuka stood in front of them, sunlight glinting off his glasses, arms across his chest. Though his face was calm, every single person in the vicinity could feel his anger.

"You three. Have wasted. Twenty two minutes of practice."

Kikimaru flinched visibly, head dropping in shame. Or terror. Or both. Ryoma bit his lip. They'd both been late twice in a row now, and the Seigaku captain looked as if his patience had run out.

"Momoshiro. Back to practice. You will be following Inui's _special_ training menu today. I suggest you prepare to stay late."

The purple-eyed boy looked as if he wanted nothing more than to catch the nearest train far, far away from whatever it was Inui had dubbed "Special."

As if on cue, the data specialist appeared behind his hapless victim, and the second year honestly looked as if he might cry. His desperate pleas of "Inui-senpai, that's not legal!" could be heard even as he was dragged towards the back of the building.

The sight was rather pitiful, actually. But Ryoma was too busy fearing for his own sanity to pay much attention to his friend's plight. _Dear God, when he chops me up into tiny pieces and stores my remains in the freezer, please let him eat my right arm instead of my left. That way, if they put me back together, I can still play my best tennis. _

Tezuka pushed his glasses up, eyes never leaving the two cowering regulars before him.

"As for you two…"

Ryoma swallowed, and he could hear his senpai whimpering beside him.

"Tezuka, maybe you should go easy on them, ne?"

Ryoma's heart stopped. That voice. Soft and melodious just like a siren…Fuji. Ryoma jumped involuntarily, and his face flushed. Damn it. Why couldn't he control his own body? Whenever Fuji was around…his self control might as well have been thrown out the window.

The honey haired tensai stood just behind Tezuka. As always, he was smiling. His cheeks were graced, ever so slightly, with a tinge of pink. Maybe the genius had actually decided to _try_ today.

But Ryoma still didn't like him.

"Fuji." Tezuka's voice didn't betray a hint of surprise, though his eyebrows were lodged in his bangs. "I thought you were practicing with Kaidoh."

The unspoken question of "What the hell are you doing over here?" hung in the air.

Ryoma didn't look at his captain. He couldn't. As much as he hated it, he couldn't take his eyes off of Fuji if his life depended on it.

"We finished. 6-3."

An inexperienced, unsuspecting person might have mistaken his tone for regretful. As if to say "I'm sorry to interrupt."

Too bad the tell tale smirk on his face gave him away. It was obvious Fuji was enjoying this. Though, Ryoma hadn't the slightest idea why. Fuji and Tezuka were friends…Fuji's best friend, next to Kikimaru.

But it was unmistakable…and then Fuji opened his eyes, and any coherent thought Ryoma had been able to manage flittered away like ashes in the wind.

Those brilliant, brilliant eyes were sparkling like a thousand diamonds. There was a keen shrewdness in them that could see into the soul. Ryoma tried to drag his eyes away, but then Fuji spoke.

So much for that.

"I don't think you should punish Eiji. It's my fault he's late…I kept him up last night." The concerned, "I'm so sweet" smile slipped back into place, but there was a hint of laughter in the tensai's voice. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"I don't see how that's an excuse, Fuji." The voice was cold. Uncharacteristically so. It took Ryoma a few seconds to realize that it wasn't Tezuka who'd spoken at all.

Oishi appeared from behind the fence, sleeves rolled up to expose tan muscles. His mouth was a flat line and the usual boyish joy that made him Oishi was gone. Ryoma could feel Eiji tense behind him and the acrobat's grip on his shoulder tightened.

Then tension was unbearable. The unresolved conflict between the five of them had become palpable…it was suffocating. Ryoma risked a quick glance back. But Eiji didn't even look angry. His dark eyes were trained on the ground, and his mouth twitched downward. If Ryoma hadn't know better, he would've sworn his senpai was trying not to cry.

Then the siren spoke again, but his voice was far from sweet. Ryoma felt a chill infuse every inch of his body.

"Saa…Oishi, I think you of all people should go easy on him." That voice. The voice Ryoma hadn't heard since Fuji played Mizuki. Like chipped block of ice. Fuji was truly furious.

Hard as flint blue eyes met widened olive orbs. The base of the Golden Pair looked as if someone had slapped him. Then he looked away. Tezuka cleared his throat.

"Echizen, Fuji. Go back to practice; you've already wasted enough time. " It wasn't a question. That tone left no room for debate.

"…Tezuka. I need to talk to Oishi."

Kikimaru's whisper was barely audible. The red head didn't raise his eyes.

Oishi didn't even look in his partner's direction. His boyish face was turned towards. Tezuka. But there was something stiff in his movements, something forced, and Ryoma knew that he felt the tension as much as anyone. "No. Tezuka's right. We all need to practice. We only have a few minutes left."

Something in Fuji's face tightened, but he didn't speak. Eiji flinched visibly, and Ryoma felt a surge of pity for his elder. They're combination wasn't the only thing that was off about the Golden Pair. No.. something else was wrong. No matter what happened between them in the past, they had never been like this. They had been cold to each other, yes. But this was worse. This was as if…the other didn't even exist.

"I need to talk to Oishi _now_, Buchou." Eiji had raised his head. His dark eyes were the same as they had been the other day- the unmistakable challenge and the mix of anger and sadness swirling around, battling for dominance.

Tezuka, possibly for the first time since Ryoma had known him, hesitated. His hazel eyes were uncertain and he opened his mouth as if to speak and then shut it.

Fuji's crystal orbs flickered around the scene, before settling directly on Ryoma. And then time stopped. Breathing was no longer relevant. Neither were the three boys standing around them. Nothing mattered but the way Fuji was looking at him right now.

"Echizen…I'll see you at the party tomorrow."

"…Ah." Ryoma didn't feel his lips move. He barely even noticed the soft affirmation falling from his lips. Hell, he couldn't even blink.

And then Fuji shut his eyes and the smile slipped back onto his face. Time began to move again.

"Saa…Echizen, Tezuka. We should go back to practice, ne? The others will be wondering."

Seigaku's leader nodded silently, and Ryoma couldn't have refused if he'd wanted to. He was vaguely aware of the other Regulars staring at them in the distance. Practice was just about over. And he hadn't even touched a racket.

He didn't even notice that Oishi and Kikimaru hadn't followed them. Or that Fuji hadn't even said their names.

**************************************************

He wasn't backing down. Anger and resentment pooled inside of the bit of his belly, and his bit back a strong desire to retch. But he wasn't going to stop until Oishi looked at him.

The taller boy coughed, dragging his eyes from his partner's gaze. His voice was hesitant- a pathetic attempt to sound normal.

"What is it, Eiji? We have to go back."

Eiji couldn't take it. He couldn't take this…the weeks on end of silence, the excuses to be anywhere that he wasn't, the eyes that refused to meet his. And what came out of his mouth next wasn't what he'd intended to say. But it was the question he'd so desperately needed to ask.

"Oishi, why'd you let me?!" The cry was bordering on a shout, and the flush on Oishi's cheeks only increased the red head's rage. "Why'd you let me, Oishi?!"

The olive-eyed boy looked away. And that was the last straw.

"Oishi! LOOK AT ME!!!!!!!" The shout was raw and desperate, and Eiji could feel the tears welling up, threatening to spill over.

Oishi's eyes met his. But there was nothing in them. They were dead.

"…It was a mistake, Eiji. If you can't accept that, than this isn't going to work."

Eiji recoiled as if he'd been slapped in the face. _…What? _

He struggled to find his voice, emptiness rising inside of him. "Mistake?" it was nary more than a whisper.

"We're both at that age. It was curiosity, and now it's been satisfied. Whatever happened that day…whatever you thought you felt…it wasn't real."

"………"

"Eiji…" Oishi's eyes turned pleading and he extended a hand tentatively. "You're my best friend…I want things….to go back to the way they were…"

"You're telling me….that I sucked your dick…because I was curious…" his tone was flat.

Oishi drew back his hand as if he'd been burned. "Eiji!"

"Go away." There was no trace of emotion in the cat boy's voice. Nothing at all. Eiji couldn't feel. He could barely move his lips. It was as if someone had frozen him.

Oishi winced. He knew. He knew that when Eiji went dead, it meant that he had no way of dealing with the emotions inside of him. It meant that there were was nothing to say.

"Do you really think…that I would do that…with someone I didn't love?"

Silence.

Eiji lowered his eyes. He couldn't stand to look at Oishi. He found it bitterly ironic that before, all he'd wanted was to be seen…now he never wanted to look at Oishi again.

_Is that how Oishi felt that day? When I kissed him….after he guided my face lower, moaning my name….is this how he felt? Is this why, the entire time, he never once opened his eyes? Did I disgust him this much? _

It was too much. All of it. He saw everything…it flashed before his eyes like a screenplay. The countless nights spent weeping into a pillow, agonizing over how to tell Oishi his feelings…finally deciding it would be better to show him. Whispering in Oishi's ear as he kissed the tan flesh…"I love you.." over and over again…waiting patiently for a response. Himself, curling up into a ball and crying for hours after Oishi ran out without saying a word. Crying until Fuji found him and all but carried him home, without asking a single question.

And then the movie stopped. And Eiji saw Oishi standing before him, desperate. Vulnerable. And it made him sick.

"GO AWAY!"

He barely noticed the tears sliding down his cheeks.

_Stupid! How could I- why did I ever-?!_

Oishi swallowed, extending a hand. "Eiji…you're my friend…"

Part of him, when he heard those words, wanted to laugh. But the part that wanted to hurt Oishi- to break him into a thousand pieces was stronger.

"You…disgust me. Get out of my sight." Pure, unadulterated hatred.

Oishi bit his lip, extending his hand further, eyes begging. "Eiji…please…can't we just…"

And then Eiji lost it. He didn't think. And when his fist collided with the side of his double's partner's face, it felt as if someone else had done it.

Even when Oishi fell to the ground, hand pressed to his cheek, eyes filled with tears of shock and pain, Eiji still didn't realize it.

None of it mattered. And the only thing to do was run- run far, far away from the boy who'd once been the reason for his existence.

He didn't hear Oishi call his name.

_**Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed this. I will try to be faster with the next chapter. There is still so much that needs to be said…**_


	6. Confrontation Part II: Thunder

_**Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. Saa…I'm back home in Kyoto for spring break so now it's very hard for me to think in English. Forgive me if there are any obscene errors. Enjoy…**_

_Chapter Six: Confrontation Part II_

It started raining again. Around lunch, just before the bell rang for break. The clouds gathered ominously like big gray blotches across an unsuspecting sky. There was no thunder, but despite that, Ryoma was still afraid.

He hated thunderstorms. And at this rate, it looked like one was imminent. It was only a matter of time before the calm broke, and the storm was unleashed in all its unearthly fury.

The fact that Horio was chattering away at 150mph didn't help either.

"Yeah, I won, of course. They had no idea what hit them. You better watch out Echizen. I've been practicing your twist serve and I think I might just-" The freshman paused his gloating, shoving an obscene amount of rice in his gaping mouth, which Ryoma had fondly dubbed "The never ending tunnel of stupidity".

Another one of his tagalongs took the rare cease fire as an opportunity to slip a comment in. (Kachio, was it? Kaito…something like that.)

"Eh, Horio….twist serve? Is that what you were doing yesterday? Didn't it hit you in the face? Like…twice?"

Horio turned tomato red and spluttered something incomprehensible, spraying rice all over the other three boys. Ryoma's left eye twitched once before his face slipped back into the ever-bored expression he was known for.

He tossed his un-eaten bento in the trash and slid his chair out in one fluid motion.

The black haired boy with the frightful bowl cut looked up at him with quivering eyes. "Eh? Ryoma-kun? Where are you going? Lunch doesn't end for another half hour."

"Bathroom." He pushed his chair back in and snagged his cap from inside the desk. He didn't actually have to go to the bathroom, but the hell if he was going to sit here with the three stooges. He didn't have the patience today. He was already annoyed at himself for acting like the kid who ate paste in kindergarten in front of Fuji-senpai and the impending thunder did nothing to improve his mood.

"Eh? But you didn't eat anything, Echizen. How can you have to pee already? See, I have a cast iron stomach. There was this one time…"

The door swung shut.

Safe in the hallway, Ryoma breathed a ragged sigh of relief.

_Thank god. Ten more seconds and I think I would've lobbed him out the window. _

Despite the fact that he didn't actually have to "pee" as Horio so gracefully put it, he felt his feet leading him to the third floor boy's bathroom. After all, it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go.

It was too wet to go to the roof and the teachers were making everyone stay inside anyway.

Ryoma sighed as he pushed the door open; hating himself for this never ending spiral of self pity he'd seemed to have been caught in. Every ten seconds it seemed like he was brooding. He could barely hold a conversation, not even with Momo, and his moods were growing increasingly sour.

It was all that bastard's fault. That arrogant, patronizing, agonizingly perfect-

"Echizen?"

_Oh. Holy. Shit. You've got to be kidding me. _

Ryoma's golden orbs snapped open, shock, apprehension, and a sick sense of excitement filling him all at once.

Standing before him, towel in hand, was Fuji Syusuke. The third year was staring at him with that close eyed, slightly curious star he always had. But he wasn't smiling. Frightening as the tight lipped look was, Ryoma much preferred it to the constant smile. It made him seem more…human. After what felt like centuries, Ryoma got his mouth to move.

"Ah…"

_Oh, good job Ryoma. Highly articulate. In fact, you should seriously consider a career in public speaking. _

The honey haired tensai's lips quirked upward ever so slightly, and Ryoma felt a flush infuse his cheeks.

_Oh god. Just kill me now. _

"I hope I didn't put you on the spot this morning. Of course, it's completely your choice if you don't want to be bothered with us."

_Blink, Ryoma! Remember blinking? Blink damn it! _

"Ah."

_Oh, brilliant. _

The tensai's lips quirked yet again, and something about his countenance lightened. The lines around his mouth relaxed and he chuckled softly. A gentle, melodious sound that filled the entire room and pierced Ryoma' core…it was electrifying.

Ryoma couldn't help it. He shivered, ever so slightly, and Fuji's eyes snapped open. There was a strangely curious look in the bright blue spheres, and the black haired boy stiffened. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak. It was as if someone had frozen him in time. As if someone had trapped him.

As if Fuji had trapped him, and regardless of whatever he wanted, whatever he'd planned, whatever rules he'd written for his life, was never going to let him go.

"Echizen…" Fuji's voice was curious, almost amused.

Ryoma could hear his heart beating like a drum, the steady beat thrumming in his ears, drowning out all but the sound of Fuji's voice.

His thoughts struggled to catch up to his surroundings. It was irrational. This couldn't be happening. Before last week, he and Fuji hadn't even had a legitimate conversation. Everything between them had always been about tennis. About rivalry. About both of them respecting each other, about each acknowledging the other as a fellow "prodigy."

But not this. What was happening right now, as Fuji closed the distance between them until his face was inches away from his own, had absolutely nothing to do with any of that. The chills that ran up his spine, the sweat that coated his palms and the steady fire burning in his golden eyes…this adrenaline high that had never before left a tennis court. This was about Fuji.

And nothing else mattered.

Fuji's lips parted, and Ryoma could smell a hint of lemon, wasabi, and something unmistakably sweet on his breath. It was intoxicating.

"You…somehow, you're different lately…" Fuji drew out the whisper, letting the sound hang in the air. Azure eyes flashed dangerously, like a lighting strike. Ryoma stared into them without really seeing, struggling to find rationality in a situation that had none.

But he loathed this feeling. This high was incredible, undeniable…but it was wrong. He didn't want this. He couldn't want this…right? This wasn't him…Echizen Ryoma didn't become speechless at the mere sight of someone else. He didn't splutter mindlessly when faced with a challenge. He faced the challenge with unquenchable fire…and Fuji or no Fuji, that was exactly what he intended to do.

He planted one foot behind him and took a deliberate step backwards, ignoring his body's protest. He hardly noticed that his back was against the wall.

"I don't think so, Fuji-senpai." He kept his voice even and his golden eyes blazed with the fire that only he possessed.

"No?" Fuji's tone was playful on the surface, but something deeper hummed beneath it. Something…forbidden. The tensai stepped forward, trapping Ryoma against the wall.

His arms were slack at his sides and a cool smirk played across his porcelain face. His posture was completely non-threatening.

But those eyes…with those eyes, he didn't need to lift a finger. Ryoma's breathing grew even more ragged, and his legs wavered. He knew, as much as he hated to admit it, that the wall was the only thing keeping him up. Fuji's body pressed against him just enough so Ryoma could feel his weight.

A ghost of a whisper danced across Ryoma's skin, and time slowed to a torturous crawl before Fuji finally spoke.

"Saa…then I must be mistaken."

And then, before Ryoma could even think of moving, he felt cool, soft lips press ever so slightly against his left ear. A thrill infused every nerve in his body, and he'd be damned if he didn't feel Fuji smiling. His eyes stared blindly, frantically over Fuji's shoulder, and he could barely see through the thick mane of golden brown locks.

After what seemed like a life time, Fuji's lips moved. Ryoma was vaguely aware of his remaining sanity exiting the building.

"Or maybe…there's something you're not telling me?"

Ryoma's brain had all but shut down. All that was left was feeling. But somehow, he managed to drag a retort from the depths of his sub-conscious. The remark was scathing, but the tremors in his voice stripped the comment of all its sting.

"This isn't one of your games, Fuji-senpai."

Fuji chuckled, and again those lips moved against his ear. He bit back a gasp, but it leaked out anyway, and Fuji's laugh grew even more teasing.

"Games? If I wasn't mistaken, I'd think you had a problem with the way I do things, Echizen."

"You're not mistaken." Ryoma snapped, but again, his body betrayed him and he felt himself melting into the pile of goo he'd always felt such disdain for.

"Saa…that's a bit harsh, Echizen, don't you think? After all…you don't really know me, do you?" The tensai was practically humming, and despite himself, Ryoma turned his head to allow his senpai full access to his ear, chin, and neck. His other ear rested against Fuji's cotton clad shoulder.

His body complied, even as his spirit rebelled against him.

"I know enough."

"Do you now?" Fuji's soft, slightly moist tongue graced the side of Ryoma's exposed neck, and whether accidental or no, Ryoma's legs failed him. He slumped against the wall, and Fuji snaked a long, pale arm around his waist, holding him up firmly without really touching him at all. Ryoma's eyes drifted closed and he saw only a sea of blue.

"I think, Echizen…that you don't hate my games as much as you say. In fact…"

All at once, the pressure was gone. Fuji's lips were gone from his neck, Fuji's arm was gone from his waist, and the tensai was standing on the opposite side of the room, hand on the door handle.

Ryoma's eyes snapped open, and his reality came crashing down on him in one crushing blow.

_Oh my god...I…I…_

Fuji's eyes were dancing with something Ryoma had never seen before, and the emotion swirling in them was mixture of amusement, curiosity and…sadness? No, it couldn't be...but before Ryoma could look again, Fuji shut his eyes and let his constant smile drift back onto his face. But somehow…it didn't seem the same.

"I think, Echizen…that you don't hate me, either."

Then, silent as a whisper of wind, he was gone. And Ryoma was alone. He didn't know how long he sat there. When the bell rang, he returned to class, because something in the back of his mind said he should.

When the teacher called on him, he answered, because something in the back of his mind said he should. When the final class was dismissed, he felt his legs carry him out of the classroom and outside the building.

It was only when the first drop of rain hit him that he realized what he done. A flood of emotion, emotions Ryoma never knew he could feel, flooded him all at once. His knees shook and he stumbled onward, hair plastered to his forehead, cap forgotten in his school bag. The puddles soaked his socks, and he hardly noticed when the first crack of lighting split the darkening sky.

Finally, standing outside the gates of his house, something cracked. Something inside of him, the thing that kept him grounded, the thing that made him cool, apathetic Echizen Ryoma shattered into a thousand pieces.

His legs would no longer support him, and he sank to the ground, elbow deep in a puddle. Never, never in his life, had he felt so vulnerable. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, and it took everything he had to fight them back.

His school bag lay forgotten a few feet away, and he turned his frightened golden eyes to the darkened sky.

_I don't hate him… _

Slowly, Ryoma stood, soaking wet and ragged, face streaked with what resembled tear marks. He reached out a shaking hand to pick up his bag.

_I don't like him… _

He pushed through the gates, and darted in through the back door as quickly as he could, leaving his shoes in a messy heap in the yard.

If his family noticed his arrival, they remained silent.

He crept into his room, body freezing yet oddly numb, and shut the door behind him. And that was as far as he could go. He collapsed onto the bed, forgetting his wet, filthy clothes, forgetting homework, forgetting his empty stomach.

There was only one thing he could think of right now. One thing.

And that was how to fall out of love with Fuji Syusuke.

**********************************************************

Tears were salty.

Usually, Kikimaru Eiji loved all things salty, sweet, crunchy…actually, he loved all things edible.

But this was an exception. Even during breaks, even when he wasn't crying, Eiji could taste the salt upon his tongue. It seemed to have become a part of his mouth.

Not that he had many breaks.

After this morning…he really didn't know if he'd ever stop crying. He didn't even know if he wanted to. At least this way, when he was like this, he could hate Oishi.

He could pin it all on him and blame him for everything. At least this way, when the pillows were muffling his sobs and the covers were shielding him, he could numb the sadness, the emptiness, with hatred.

Because when the tears stopped, the memories came. Oishi smiling that awkward smile of his. Oishi holding his hand, pulling him up. Oishi fretting over everyone and everything, but especially him. Oishi being the first person who truly _needed_ him.

Oishi promising him that they'd always be the Golden Pair, even if tennis ceased to exist.

And then he couldn't hate Oishi anymore. Then the only person left to hate was himself.

"Eiji…"

The acrobat's red, puffy eyes snapped open. He knew that voice. Though, he wasn't used to hearing it sound so sad.

"Fuji." He rasped, hating how pathetic his voice sounded. He pushed the pillow off his head, letting it slip to the ground. He should've known the tensai would come to see him.

Fuji sat in front of him, cross legged on the floor. His blue eyes were open and gentle. Eiji pushed himself up on one hand, wiping his face with the other.

"How long have you been sitting there?"

"…About two minutes."

Eiji's heart clenched. His best friend's voice was soft and torn, and it killed him. He struggled to drag up his usual good humor, attempting a half hearted smile.

"Fuji, I'm fine, really. Just a little shaken, is all."

"You don't have to lie to me, Eiji." Fuji's voice was soft, but there was a strange, unfamiliar note in it.

Eiji laughed then, a rough, weak attempt at sounding nonchalant. "I-I'm not-."

"Eiji. Why didn't you come back? Everyone was worried about you. I was…"

The red head stopped laughing, and the ghost of a smile fell from his face. That was his best attempt at a façade, and it had failed miserably.

Eiji pulled his knees to his chest, making room for Fuji to come sit on the bed and giving himself a meager sense of security at the same time.

"I guess I can't fool you, can I?"

Fuji smiled softly, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. "I've known you too long for that, Eiji. Besides…anyone who looked at you could tell you're not fine." The shorter boy's voice turned dark, and his eyes narrowed.

"Eiji…what did he do to you?"

A shiver ran up the cat boy's spine, and he couldn't help but remember what Fuji's words from the other night.

"_If anything ever happened to you Eiji, I would personally destroy the person responsible." _

"Nothing." The response was automatic. He knew how Fuji could be, and as much as he loathed Oishi, no one deserved that.

Fuji's azure orbs narrowed into slits, but he remained silent, waiting for Eiji to speak.

Eiji pulled his knees in tighter, turning his eyes from Fuji and burying his chin in the crook of his arms. A strange lightness came over him, and it felt as if he were watching himself from a distance. By doing that…by detaching himself, just maybe he'd be able to get through this.

"You're right, Fuji." He whispered. He patted the spot across from him with his foot, and in one fluid motion, his teammate joined him on the bed.

Fuji said nothing, blue eyes filled with pity.

"I'm not fine. In fact…I'm as far from fine as I've ever been in my life." He choked on his words, but plunged onward. Because Fuji deserved to hear this. After everything the tensai had done for him, without saying a word, without expecting any gratification…he deserved to have his one and only question answered.

"We…I told him that I…I told him how I felt…" Eiji's voice broke then, and it took several minutes for him to continue. Tears blurred his vision and he turned his eyes away. He didn't want Fuji to see him like this.

"And he told me that it was because…it was only b-because I…was _curious_…" The memories returned to him all at once, and his tone turned bitter. "He told me it was all a mistake…that everything I felt…meant_ nothing_." Then the sobs pressed against his rib cage, begging to be let out.

He fought most of them back, but one managed to escape. It racked his entire body and he bit his lip, hard. He shut his eyes, but he could still feel Fuji's heart wrenching gaze on him.

It took even more time before he could speak again.

"I...I kissed him…that day, you found me in the locker room…we…I kissed him and he…he kissed me back, Fuji." His eyes snapped open and found Fuji's, and his tone grew increasingly desperate. He found himself needing Fuji to believe him, needing validation for his actions. He found himself needing someone to acknowledge what they'd done as more than just a mistake. "He _did_, I know he did, I felt him…he liked it, Fuji, I know he did…he called my name…and he sounded…happy…"

And then two arms were around him, knocking aside his guarded position and pulling him close, a tangle of arms and legs. Eiji's tears soaked Fuji's shirt and his friend's warmth only made him cry harder. After what felt like forever, Eiji began to pull himself back to the present. He focused in on everything around him now, everything that had nothing to do with his memories. The way Fuji's shirt looked, covered in tear splotches. The way he smelled…Eiji had always loved the way the tensai smelled.

Fuji smelled of wasabi, lemon, and expensive bath soap. Bath soap? That smell was new.

But yet it was oddly familiar…then it struck him. His mind was happy to have any excuse not to think of Oishi, and he seized onto it, sitting up slowly and untangling himself from Fuji.

His voice was raspy, but it didn't waver when he spoke next. "Fuji…you smell like ochibi."

Fuji's eyebrows rose and his blue eyes sparkled. For the first time since he'd arrived, he looked almost…content. The realization gave Eiji strength, and the red head took the comfort and tucked it away. He knew he'd need it soon enough.

"Do I now?" The brown haired boy mumbled, placing a finger beneath his chin. If Eiji had been in a better mood, the sight might have made him laugh.

"Yeah…you smell like his bath soap. Every time I hug him I smell it…and now I smell it on you."

"Eiji…can I tell you something?" the tensai was practically whispering now, and his expression grew somber. The sudden shift in mood from serious to jovial to back to serious had Eiji's head reeling, but he nodded none the less.

"I came very close…to kissing Echizen today."

…_What? Wait, no. There is no way in hell he just said that. _

"Come again?"

"He has feelings for me, Eiji. I can't believe I haven't seen it before now. I always thought he fancied Tezuka…but apparently....that is not the case." There wasn't even a hint of playfulness in Fuji's tone.

"Oh my god..you're serious."

"Yes."

Slowly, Eiji put the pieces together. The party Fuji had requested he host. Him insisting that Echizen be there, despite the younger boy's obvious anti-social tendencies. Fuji's reluctance to ask the black olive haired boy himself. It all made sense now.

"But…wait…isn't this a good thing?"

Fuji's eyebrows rose. "Why would it be a good thing?"

Eiji frowned, struggling to grasp his friend's cryptic meaning.

"You like him back, don't you?" The red head ignored the fact that he sounded like an elementary school kid. With his limited brain function, it was all he could manage.

It was Fuji's turn to frown. "I thought you knew about Tezuka."

"Okay…wait a minute. You like Tezuka? Still? I thought that was past tense. I thought you let that go…"

Fuji sighed then, and for a moment, he looked many years older than he was. "I thought had too."

"So.." Eiji hesitated, not wanting to offend the boy who'd done so much for him. "You…you don't like Ryoma?"

Fuji said nothing, but the conflict in his eyes was clear. Eiji decided to leave that question alone…at least for now.

"You like Tezuka, then?"

"…Not in the typical sense. Not like I used to. I'm still intrigued by him….but I've realized that's why I've held on for so long. Because I set my sights on him, and he never returned my rather misguided affections. So I will always…he will always hold a part of me. If only as the one that got away." Fuji laughed then, but there was hint of bitterness in it.

The red head rubbed his temples, unable to comprehend his friend's situation. He groaned softly.

"Fuji! Why does everything with you always have to be so complicated?"

"Saa…I find it rather simple, Eiji. Part of me wants Tezuka. And part of me…part of wants to destroy him."

…_What!? _

"Um…Fuji…that's a little bit….twisted…"

_Actually, it's a lot twisted. _

Fuji's lips twitched. "Perhaps I should rephrase that. I've spent years trying to get Tezuka to acknowledge me. To want me. But he never did. He never acknowledged anyone."

Eiji's eyes widened, and all at once, the pieces clicked into place. "Until…"

"Yes. Until Ryoma." Fuji's eyes drifted closed, and Eiji, along with the rest of the world, was once again shut out of the mystery that was Fuji Syusuke.

"…Fuji…the only reason you want Ryoma…is so Tezuka can't have him? Is so Tezuka can know what it's like to chase after someone…and lose? All of this…you're only using him?"

Fuji stood then, in one deliberate motion. "I'm sorry Eiji…it's getting late and the weather will turn for the worse soon…if I'm not home before the thunder starts my sister will worry."

Eiji swallowed. He was torn between gratitude, sadness, and a strange sense of compassion. He struggled to find the words.

"Fuji…I know what it's like…to be used and thrown away by someone you love…" his voice broke, and he knew that it wouldn't be long until he broke down yet again. "Please…I know you've been hurt…but please don't hurt ochibi…please…"

Fuji's hand rested on the door knob and Eiji could only stare pleadingly at his back.

"Please, Fuji…he's only a child...if you hurt him now…he may never be able…"

Fuji opened the door and lingered in the threshold for a moment, caught between the two sides, unable to decide whether to move forward or back.

When he spoke, his tone was flat…but soft. Warm, almost. Almost.

"When I was with him today…nothing else mattered. I was with him because I wanted to be."

And once again, Kikimaru Eiji had nothing to say.

"Saa…goodbye, Eiji. I'll pick you up before the party tomorrow."

And then he was gone and Eiji was left with nothing but the sound of his own breathing.

_That's right…he moved the party to his house…hmph. That's just like Fuji…_

Eiji sank back into his pillows, the tears he'd restrained earlier cascading down his face. He breathed in the comforting scent of bath soap that Fuji had left on his sheets and whispered sweet nothings to himself.

The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Oishi holding out his hand.

_**Author's Note: Well….it seems like the more conflict is resolved, the more conflict arises. It's a quality unique to the Thrill Pair. I hope all of you liked this chapter. Please review. The fabled party is fast approaching. Will hearts be mended? Or broken past the point of no return? Stay tuned and see….**_


	7. The Arrival of the Storm

Disclaimer: I just realized I've never said this but I've always thought it was rather obvious. I don't own Prince of Tennis. Though the person who does dated my mother in college. She dumped him for an English foreigner who, subsequently, became my father. Funny how life works out, isn't it? My mother is so dumb.

_Author's Note: It's getting harder and harder to write this. Not for lack of ideas, more like too many ideas running around in my head at once. But I shall push on for the love of the Thrill! Please review. Reviews keep me motivated and you get to read more sooner. So, without further ado… _

_Chapter Seven: The Arrival of the Storm _

The picture was faded. It looked as if it had been looked at one too many times, held close one too many times, as if too many tear drops had fallen on it. It was black and white, which only made it look older than it already was. It had outlived its value. The naïve children in the picture no longer existed. They were no longer relevant. The round faced boy with the shy smile and the goofy, spiky haired youth whose arm was slung around his shoulder….they were just memories now.

That's what Eiji told himself. It was the only way he could bring himself to throw it away.

So why were his hands still shaking? Why, after ten solid minutes of standing over the trash can, couldn't he pry his fingers lose from the small scrap of paper?

_Let go of it. It doesn't mean anything now. Eiji…let go! _

For the hundredth time that night, tears splattered down his face. They trailed a messy path down and landed on his shirt front. Eiji squeezed his eyes shut tight, but the tears leaked out still.

_Eiji…you have to stop this…you can't go on like this…you have to let it go…you have to let him go. Please…_

His grip on the picture slackened. He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes.

_Let him go…_

The picture slipped from his grasp.

He stood there for several moments, eyes closed, hands limp at his side. He stood there until the light peeked through the curtains and his mother called up the stairs, informing him that he was going to be late for school.

Only then did he open his eyes. There was neither anger nor sadness in them. There was no bitterness. They were filled with a gentle sweetness that he drew from deep inside himself, a reservoir of past joy that he hadn't even known he possessed.

It didn't make everything right again.

But it was enough. If only because it had to be.

And for the last time he let himself think those forbidden words.

_I love you, Oishi…more than life itself._

And then he let it go.

*********************************

For the first time in his life, Echizen Ryoma slept through a thunderstorm.

Because for the first time in his life he had found something that frightened him more than crashing thunder and howling winds. Like thunder, there was no hiding from this. No matter where he ran, no matter how tightly he jammed his hands over his ears, no matter how fervently he denied his fear…it was always there.

In a way, it was worse than thunder. Thunder stopped. Eventually, no matter how terrifying a storm might be, it always stopped. But this…

Night or day, rain or shine…this was always there.

Because loving Fuji wasn't like a storm. It didn't pass. It stayed with him every moment, every bloody _second _of every day.

He could hate it. He could deny it, ignore it, condemn it, come up with a thousand reasons why he shouldn't. Why it was wrong.

But he couldn't change it. And that was why it terrified him like nothing else could.

And so he sat up at five thirty a.m., staring at the lightening sky through his window. The gray storm clouds from last night still lingered just above the horizon, framing the pale rose sunrise. It was odd looking. The sun and the storm clouds. Two things that by law, by nature, didn't belong together.

The glass was cold against his forehead, almost painfully so, but he let it rest there anyway. It soothed the pounding headache that had plagued him for hours. That's what he got for standing in the rain and sleeping in soaking wet clothes. He was lucky he didn't have pneumonia.

Though, he would've almost preferred it if he _had_ gotten sick. At least then he'd have an excuse to blow off school…and this ridiculous party. A legitimate excuse.

Because explaining to the other regulars that he was in love with Fuji, and therefore couldn't stand to be around him, was not exactly at the top of his To Do List.

Actually, it wasn't even on his To Do List. It was possibly as far from his To Do List as anything could get.

What if Fuji found out? What if Fuji found out just how right he'd been?

The tight knot that had formed in Ryoma's belly twisted sharply and a dry groan slipped out.

_God damn it! Why am I being such a fucking girl about all of this? I'm not "in love". That's ridiculous. I can't be in love with another guy. Especially not Fuji! Especially __**not**__ Fuji! I don't even like the bastard! _

The acidic knot only tightened in protest, and a bitter taste filled Ryoma's mouth. Right now, he was silently grateful that he hadn't eaten anything. It probably would've been all over the floor.

At a loss, Ryoma pressed his head harder against the glass. The headache didn't falter; if anything it increased its pounding. The pressure was right against his temples and suddenly the dim light streaming in only made it worse. He let his golden eyes drift shut, pressing his palms against the windowsill and trying with all his might to block everything out.

The pain numbed slightly, but despite it all, his thoughts wandered back to the only thing that seemed to interest them anymore.

Fuji.

_Okay, now just think about this logically. I can't…_

Ryoma's breath hitched and his emotional barriers became to scream in defiance. He ignored them. They were pretty much useless now anyway.

_I can't ignore this forever. It will drive me insane…he will drive me insane. I have to face him…_

He drew a deep, shuddering breath and opened his eyes.

Something inside of him, the recently shattered remains of his previous self, began to put themselves, inch by inch, back together. He still wasn't himself. He probably would never be that Ryoma again.

But that didn't mean he couldn't live on. It didn't mean that he wasn't Ryoma anymore. He was just…different.

Whether for better or worse, only time would tell. But one thing was certain…and slowly, agonizingly so, Ryoma's lips formed the silent proclamation.

"I'm in love with you, Fuji Syusuke…"

He stood still for several moments, unable to comprehend his own words. So now it was true.

Now there was no going back.

****************************************************************

No one looked at him when he walked in. That was the first sign that something was terribly wrong. The girls were off the one side of the classroom, twittering about some American celebrities. That was to be expected. The rest of the boys were grouped off in their own little groups, sitting on desks and arguing about various sports teams.

But Fuji didn't get up to greet him. He didn't raise a hand in welcome, hell, he didn't even look up. In fact, none of the regulars were even there. Inui, Fuji, and Taka were all conspicuously missing.

Eiji frowned and glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes until class started. The others should've been there by now.

Biting his lip nervously, he tossed his bag on the floor beneath his desk and sat down, twiddling his thumbs and wishing that Fuji would arrive.

Fuji's presence was the only thing holding him together anymore. As pathetic as it was, he had always depended on other people. Oishi and Fuji primarily…and to some degree, Ryoma and Momoshiro as well. For all his happy, bouncy, go lucky ways, he was hopelessly dependent on those he cared for.

"Oy, Kikimaru-kun!"

Startled, Eiji's head shot up and he found himself staring into pretty green eyes. After a few seconds of stunned silence, he recognized the speaker as Toudou Sachiko, his long time classmate and resident "hottie".

She smiled at him with dazzling white teeth, pink lip gloss glinting.

"Toudou-san…"

She tossed her bouncy black curls over her shoulder and waved a hand, smile never faltering.

"Call me Sachiko."

Eiji tried not to frown. He really didn't feel like having a conversation with her right now…or anyone, for that matter. But especially not her. Sachiko had a reputation for being a notorious gossip and in his three years of knowing her, they hadn't really said much to each other. Her motives for talking to him now…frankly, he was doubtful.

"Alright." He muttered, trying not to flinch under the brightness of her smile. It was almost frightening.

"So…Eiji-kun…can I call you Eiji-kun?"

"Um…yeah…we've been in the same class for three years so…"

"Have we?" Sachiko frowned for a moment, and then her smile only widened. "Of course we have, Eiji-kun! I've always thought you were so funny!"

It took everything Eiji had not to slam his head on the table. There was a reason he didn't like girls. And right now, Sachiko was case and point.

"Um…thanks."

The black haired girl twittered, and Eiji felt something sharp and painful permeate the layer around his brain.

It's not like he had a reputation for being the quiet, thoughtful type…quite the opposite in fact. Many of his classmates found his loud ways lovably annoying…key word being _lovably. _ But this…the only reason anyone would put up with this girl was to get in her pants. And as Eiji had no interest in what lay beneath her bright red panties, (yes, he could see them…he was fairly sure that the skirt had been pulled up several inches) he felt no real inclination to deal with her.

"Um…sorry to be rude, Sachiko-chan, but I must excuse myself…tennis club business, you know…"

The girl's bright eyes flashed and her smile grew semi-feral. "Oh, tennis club business…I think that's so cool…I wish I were a regular. That would be so awesome…but wait, the tennis club is having some problems right now, isn't it?"

She feigned some concern at the end, and stuck out her lip in a pout that was anything but cute.

Irritation pricked at him. So he was right. She wanted to be the first one with the juicy scoop on why the famous Golden Pair wouldn't even speak to each other.

"No. Not really." He snapped, rising in one fluid motion. He stood a few centimeters taller than she did and she took a step back, fake concern wavering.

"Oh….well, it's just…I saw you and Oishi-san arguing the other day…from the girl's bathroom window and I was worried about you, Eiji-kun…"

Eiji's blood pressure rose instantly and he couldn't contain the soft snarl that escaped from the back of his throat. The emotions from the other day were still raw and fresh, and the healing he'd achieved this morning could do nothing for him when he had his past escapades shoved in his face.

"That," he ground out, face coloring, "Is absolutely none of your goddamn business."

Sachiko's mouth dropped open and she spluttered like a fish. She'd never seen this side of him before, that was clear.

"Eiji-kun…don't be so mean…I only want to help you…if you wanted me to talk to Oishi-san for you I-."

"Sachiko."

The girl froze mid-sentence, lip gloss outlined mouth snapping shut. Eiji didn't need to turn to see that Fuji was behind him.

Sachiko's face colored until it matched her panties. "Fuji-sama…I didn't know you were here."

"I just arrived." His voice was cool and casual, but the aura he was emitting was anything but friendly.

Sachiko seemed not get the hint. Either that, or she was so blindly in love with Fuji that she had deluded herself into thinking that she was some kind of exception. No such luck.

"Fuji-sama, I was just trying to talk to Eiji-kun here about conflict resolution…after all I can be very…useful..." The girl was practically purring.

The badly concealed sexual innuendo didn't seem to phase Fuji one bit. Eiji could feel the shorter boy's disdain seeping into the air, though she didn't seem to notice.

"Is that so? Well, perhaps you could be useful some other time."

Eiji felt Fuji's iron grip encircle his arm, and he didn't struggle when he was all but bodily dragged out of the classroom. He could still hear Sachiko whimpering behind him.

When they entered the hall way, Fuji's grip slackened, but he didn't release it. He turned to look at his red headed companion, eyes open and startlingly lovely.

He really was beautiful. Eiji couldn't help but grin.

"Thanks, Fujiko-chan."

Fuji laughed a soft, tinkling laugh that filled Eiji's heart with warmth. For reasons he'd never be able to explain, he leaned forward and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Fuji's rosy lips.

He felt Fuji stiffen for a split second, before smiling into the kiss, and then finally, after a few seconds, pulling away.

"Eiji…unless you want to out us both, very, very publicly, you might not want kiss me in school." Fuji's gentle reprimand lacked any real bite, and his tell tale grin gave him away. He wasn't the least bit upset.

Eiji blushed softly, but he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty. Something inside of him was singing with joy, and he felt strangely light. To give love and to receive love in return was something he'd all but given up on…and even if his love for Fuji was platonic, it was still incredibly precious. And there was nothing wrong with kissing him. He was beautiful and Eiji loved him. Kisses were simply a convenient way to say things when he couldn't find the words.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, without any real sincerity.

Fuji's grin only widened. "Anyway, Eiji…I came to get you."

Eiji blinked. "Huh?"

"That's the problem with missing school. You miss things." The brown haired tensai's tease was highly amused.

Eiji glared at his teammate and stuck his lip out in a truly adorable pout. It was tried and true, and sure enough, Fuji relented.

"There's an emergency meeting club meeting right now. Actually, you're late but I just realized I forgot to tell you. Tezuka sent me to come get you."

The acrobat felt a lump form in his throat. "We have to play tennis? Right now?"

Fuji did what he always did, and read between the lines to understand Eiji's real question: _I have to play tennis with Oishi? _

"No tennis, Eiji. It's strictly a logistics meeting." He was using the same gentle voice he always used when he spoke to his red haired counterpart, the voice that most never got to hear.

Comforted and still riding the high from the kiss, the acrobat felt his heart beat return to normal. "Oh. Okay…well, I guess we should go then…what classroom is it in?"

Fuji's lips twitched upward. "The roof. All the classrooms are being used. Sometimes that happens during school hours."

"Nya, Fujiko-chan! You're so mean to me!"

The tensai's lips twitched yet again, but he said nothing and proceeded to walk towards the stair case.

Eiji stuck out his tongue at his best friend's back, but as always, followed the only person who'd never left him.

***************************************************************

If life had taught Ryoma anything, it was to avoid unnecessary situations. This club meeting would be a prime example. The morning air was crisp and the roof was still damp and musty from yesterday's downpour. The tension in the air was palpable, and even the innocent bystanders could feel it. Kaidoh hissed nervously, and Momoshiro threw a half hearted jibe at him. It was so pathetic that the viper didn't even bother to respond.

Even Tezuka seemed apprehensive. He stood at nexus of the impromptu semi circle the Seigaku regulars had formed and fiddled with his glasses.

Ryoma was incredibly aware of the fact that Fuji had chosen to stand directly behind him and he could feel the older boy's intoxicating breath against the back of his head. Ryoma shivered every few seconds, though he knew that Fuji was the only one who noticed. He could hear his estranged love interest chuckling softly. He was beyond caring that his body betrayed him whenever someone so much as uttered Fuji's name. That part, reluctant as he was to admit it, was beyond his control. All he could do now was keep his head above water…all he could do now was refuse to play the tensai's game.

Kikimaru stood to his left, bouncing up and down on his the soles of his feet and gnawing on his already well worn lips.

Taka, Inui and Oishi were huddled together against the morning chill on the opposite side of the circle. Oishi shot a furtive glance to his doubles partner every few seconds, as if unsure whether or not it was safe to look.

Eiji didn't look back, though Ryoma was sure he felt his partner's gaze upon him. He was still unclear as to what went on between the two of them, but he was fairly certain that it had little or nothing to do with tennis.

Finally, the captain cleared his throat and spoke to the eight regulars before him.

"Seigaku, as you know, is dangerously close to the National Tournament. I thought that we were well enough prepared. But recent events have served to make me doubtful."

No one moved an inch. Breathing seemed to have ceased completely. The only sound was the whistling of the wind and the soft patter of dew falling from the fence.

"I should say right now that I'm not only referring to the recent decline in the quality of play, though that is part of it. The mental and emotional state of this team, believe it or not, is also my concern."

A bird trilled somewhere in the distance, but no one seemed to notice. All eyes were on Tezuka. Brown, green, purple, black, blue and dazzling gold.

"Oishi, Kikimaru."

Oishi stiffened instantly, and Eiji's bouncing ceased.

"You two have been a particular concern of mine…of everyone's." Tezuka's voice softened and Ryoma felt something stir within him. A forgotten admiration for his captain that Fuji had managed to overshadow.

Kawamura nodded anxiously, knotting his hands. "Tezuka-buchou is right…every one has been really worried about you two. You're game has been off for weeks now and after yesterday …"

For the first time, Ryoma noticed the mottled purple bruise adorning Oishi's right cheek. His golden eyes darted to Kikimaru, who was staring very pointedly at the ground.

Inui spoke up. "There is a ninety-two percent chance that if you two don't resolve your personal conflict, then your chance of victory is…well, actually, it's just not going to happen."

Tezuka cleared his throat and all fell silent.

"What everyone is trying to say…is that all of us are concerned for you. Both of you. And this isn't just a personal matter anymore, Fuji, so you might as well stop looking at me like that. This affects all of us. The team as a whole. Your combination was an essential part of our strategy and if it isn't going to work, then I need to know now. Because this can not continue." There was steel in the captain's voice.

Eiji was the first to respond. His voice was a whisper, but it was strong enough to be heard.

"It isn't going to work. It has nothing to do with personal problems anymore. There's nothing more for us to discuss."

Oishi looked as if someone had slapped him across the face. His mouth hung open slightly and his olive eyes were blank.

Tezuka turned to him. "Oishi…is this true? Is there really no way that your combination can work again?"

Ryoma could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Was this for real? Was Tezuka seriously offering to break up the Golden Pair? Despite everything they'd been through…was this really the end?

Oishi swallowed and cast his eyes towards Kikimaru, searching desperately for something, anything, some sign that he didn't have to do this. That he didn't have to be the one to say "It's over."

He looked hard and deep into Eiji's dark orbs and the red head met his gaze. Something happened between them then, something that Ryoma would never understand. But when Oishi broke the gaze, something in his face was broken.

"He's my best friend…" he whispered softly, voice unreadable. "But..." he hesitated, as if he hoped that Kikimaru would interrupt him, would cut him off with a gleeful laugh and a boyish grin and proclaim that the entire thing had been a joke and that everything would be alright…but nothing came.

And the silence that did come said all that needed to be said.

Ryoma couldn't bear to look at the boy next to him. Something inside of him clenched and released, over and over again, until it hurt.

No one spoke. The silence was somber, almost mournful. It was as if everyone was saying goodbye to something precious…something that had been a part of who they were as a team, as very individuals, and something that none of them would ever find again.

Finally, Tezuka broke the quiet.

"Very well then. Inui and Kaidoh, you are now Doubles 1."

The data specialist and the viper nodded, but there was no triumph in their eyes.

"As for Doubles 2…Kikimaru, Momoshiro…you two will partner together."

Momo nodded, purple eyes dull and lifeless. Eiji remained still.

"As for Singles…I will remain Singles 1, unless anyone has any objections."

Silence.

"Fuji, Singles 2. Echizen, Singles 3. Oishi and Taka…you two are reserve doubles. Practice your combination and don't slack. In the event of emergency, Momoshiro is Singles 3 and Oishi, you will play with Kikimaru, whether you want to or not. Is that clear?"

The soft chorus of affirmative answers did nothing to wipe the scowl off of Tezuka's face. He sighed and ran a hand through his spiky locks.

"All of you…I worry so very much for all of you." His voice was tired and hollow, and for the first time, Ryoma thought the captain looked…human. "Remember what I said. Dismissed."

Tezuka was the first one to leave. His footsteps echoed and Ryoma felt as if something had changed between them…between all of them. Forever.

Inui and Kaidoh followed soon after, and Taka drifted off not long after that. Momoshiro patted the top of Ryoma's head once, gave a sad smile, and then he was gone as well.

Oishi stood as if rooted to the spot, olive eyes wide and staring. Ryoma knew that he wasn't really seeing anything.

Sighing bitterly, he moved as if to walk away, but a delicate yet oddly firm grip on his shoulder stopped him.

"Wait." Fuji whispered. "This is something you should see."

Ryoma's body, as always, complied, and he remained still. Fuji's hand on his shoulder was oddly comforting and for the first time, being near him felt almost…right.

Eiji broke the quiet with his high pitched, upbeat sing song voice.

"Ja, I'm going back now. Coming, Fuji?"

For the first time since the destruction of the Golden Pair, something seemed to click for Oishi. He raised his head, face pale and drawn, and took a tentative step forward.

"Eiji."

The red head ignored him. "Fuji, we're gonna be late…and what kind of influence is that for ochibi? We're going to get him in trouble too."

Fuji didn't respond. Ryoma turned wide golden eyes up to met his senpai's blue gaze. Those eyes right now…they were only for him.

Oishi didn't seem to care that the other two were standing there. He marched up to his former doubles partner and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him forward and forcing the red head to meet his gaze.

"Eiji!" Oishi's voice cracked, but he didn't loosen his grip.

Kikimaru's dark eyes flashed dangerously and he jerked backward, hard. "Let go of me."

Oishi swallowed hard and his olive eyes swam with tears. "No. I'm not letting you go. I'm not letting it end this way."

The sheer heartbreak in Oishi's voice shattered whatever was left of Ryoma's emotional barrier, and he felt a crushing sadness wash over him.

So this was what Fuji wanted him to see. For whatever reason…this was the image that was forever burned into his mind.

"Let _go_ of me, you asshole!" Eiji yanked harder, but Oishi only followed him forward, tightening his grip.

"No!" Oishi's desperation was evident, and Eiji's anger was raw. Neither was relenting.

"Oishi! Stop it!"

"_You_ stop it! Stop running away from me! Stop giving up on this-on us!"

"On us?" Eiji's voice dropped to a deadly whisper and it sent icy chills up Ryoma's spine. "On _us_?! What the _hell_ are you talking about you son of a bitch?! There is no _us_! There never was!"

Oishi flinched visibly, tears standing at the corners of his eyes, ready and waiting to fall.

"That isn't true, Eiji…you don't mean that…it isn't true…"

"Shut the _fuck _up! How dare you accuse me of running away?! You were the one who said you didn't want this! You were the one who said that this- that I- meant absolutely _nothing_ to you! You're the one who's running away! Face it Oishi, you wanted this! You wanted an excuse to forget me!"

The tears that Oishi had managed to hold back slipped down his round face, and he began to sob, dry sobs that rocked his body.

"Aw, are you crying, Oishi?" Eiji's voice grew cruelly mocking, and Ryoma could hardly believe that the boy standing before him was the same person. "Are you crying? Aw, poor baby? Does the baby need his dick sucked? Maybe then he'll stop crying?"

He turned to Fuji, eyes hysterical, shaking with insane laughter. "What do you think, Fuji? Ochibi? Do you think that he'll stop crying if I suck his dick again? Do you think he'd like that?"

Ryoma's heart slammed painfully against his rib cage and the world around him began to spin. This wasn't real. His senpai hadn't just said that. Seigaku's vice captain wasn't sobbing pitifully, mumbling incomprehensible pleas. It just couldn't be happening. It couldn't.

"Eiji…please…I'm sorry…I'm so sorry I said those things…I didn't mean them…I didn't…I _need _you, Eiji…please…oh, god, _please_…"

When Eiji spoke the mocking tone was back, but the bitterness in it had abated slightly. Sadness and disdain had replaced it.

"You need me? No, Oishi, you don't need me. You need some pretty little girl who won't mind getting stepped on, used, and then thrown in the trash can like a worthless piece of garbage. You need me to forgive you so you can stop feeling guilty. You need me to say it's alright. That's the only thing you need from me, Oishi. You were right. It was a mistake. "

Oishi could barely speak through his sobs and his grasp on Eiji's shoulders had all but disappeared completely.

"N-no, it isn't true…it isn't t-true, Eiji…I- I-…I don't think y-your worthless…I- l-love you, Eiji…I w-want you to stay with me…please, Eiji, please!"

Eiji pulled out of Oishi's grasp. The taller boy lost his balance and pitched forward, falling to his knees with a thud.

"No."

And then Oishi curled up into a ball and wailed his anguish to the morning sky.

Ryoma couldn't take it. Everything that had happened in the past few days came rushing up to meet him and he broke away from Fuji and ran towards the stair case, feet slipping, and stomach rising out of his chest.

He barely made it back to the ground before he lost it. Soft, warm hands held back his long black tresses as he shared his pain with the pavement.

Breathing hard, he took the handkerchief that he was offered and wiped his mouth, head reeling and stomach threatening to empty itself yet again.

Fuji's soft voice filled his ears, and his stomach calmed. Bitter tears gathered at the back of Ryoma's eyes, but after a few seconds they faded. He couldn't cry now. He wouldn't cry now.

"Ryoma…"

The use of his first name barely registered.

"Ryoma, I'm sorry…I'm sorry that I forced you to watch that…"

Another voice, this one higher and raspier, came next. "Ochibi…"

Kikimaru-senpai.

"I'm sorry too. I…" Eiji struggled for words, before falling silent. It was Fuji who brought them both back down to earth.

"Ryoma. You're not going to go back to class today, alright?"

"Alright…" he whispered, hating the acidic taste of sick that filled his mouth.

"The three of us are going to go get a burger. And then we're going to go back to my place, alright? My parents are out of town."

When Fuji received no answer, he gently raised Ryoma's head with one finger, blue eyes open and soft.

"Alright?"

And then, despite everything that had happened, Ryoma felt right. Not okay. But right.

"…Okay."

Eiji chorused his agreement and Fuji smiled softly, that gorgeous, perfect smile of his. Ryoma realized then, all at once, that when Fuji smiled, really smiled, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

And when Fuji intertwined his soft, pale hands with his, Ryoma didn't pull away. He simply caught Kikimaru by the wrist as if that were the only logical thing to do.

And then Fuji led them, both of them, into the light.

*************************************************************************

_**Author's Note: I do hope that you enjoyed that. Now, this is for the numerous people who have asked why the Japanese girl does not put any Japanese in her stories: because, darlings, I either write all in English or all in Japanese. I can't stand to flip between the two, it bothers me. Sorry to disappoint. I hope you liked the chapter. Next time…Revelations. There is still so much that needs to be said…**_


	8. Revelations

Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis. It's a shame. Blame my mother. If I did own Prince of Tennis, there would be a hell of a lot more Fuji x Ryoma time. But ah, well.

_Author's Note: I'm sorry if the last chapter left a lot of confusion. I hope this one will clear it up. I blame the ideas running around in my head like little demons wielding tooth picks. (Japanese fairy tale reference. Maybe some of you know what I'm talking about) This is my first attempt at yaoi and my first Prince of Tennis story, and I really appreciate all the support. If there are errors, please forgive them- I've sprained my wrist and am typing with one hand. All of you silent subscribers! Review please! Anyway, enjoy. _

_Chapter Eight: Revelations _

The first thing Ryoma realized when the sunlight hit his face was that this entire ordeal was very, very stupid. They were skipping school. All three of them were facing hours upon hours of detention. Tezuka would have their heads on a platter.

The second thing he realized was that Kikimaru wasn't carrying his bag. Most likely he'd left his books in his classroom. Ryoma himself hadn't been able to make it to class before Momo grabbed him and forced him up to the rooftop, so he still had his things, as did Fuji.

The third thing he realized was that Fuji was no longer holding his hand.

"….Fuji-senpai…"

The honey haired genius turned his head, question written on his face. They were standing only a few feet away from the regular's favorite burger joint. Though somehow, the idea of eating a dozen grease laden meat products at nine thirty a.m. proved to be less than appealing.

Ryoma swallowed the lump in his throat that spontaneously appeared every time Fuji looked at him and shot a very pointed glance at his wrist watch. Fuji followed his gaze and brief surprise played across his features, before his constant smile stretched into a grin.

"I don't see the problem, Ryoma."

The use of his first name finally registered and a tantalizing chill ran up Ryoma's spine. His golden eyes darted back and forth frantically and he bit his lip, unsure of how to react to the sudden familiarity. Not even Momoshiro called him Ryoma, and they'd been friends far longer then Ryoma had even noticed Fuji's existence.

Fuji must've read something in the silence, because his blue eyes suddenly fluttered open.

"Sorry, Echizen. That was overly familiar of me, wasn't it?"

A sharp pang besieged Ryoma's chest when he heard Fuji call him Echizen. Part of him relished it…part of him seized on to the normalcy of the thing- Fuji wasn't familiar with him. They didn't address each other by their first names, without honorifics. Because they were simply teammates. That's all they were.

But part of him…the part that no longer denied his love for Fuji, the part of him that sang with anticipation and joy every time they touched…that part couldn't stand to hear the familiarity being taken away. That was the part that yearned to be close to Fuji…as terrifying as it was, as starkly irrational and sick as it was, as wrong as it was…it still was.

_No…it wasn't…I love it when you say my name…_

But he couldn't say that. He couldn't say anything.

Fuji frowned slightly, but he didn't push for a response.

For the first time since they'd started this impromptu field trip, Kikimaru spoke up. His voice was slightly raspy, but he sounded cheerful enough. And Ryoma really didn't know him well enough to tell if he was faking.

"Fuji, as much as I love eating deep fried Western food, it _is_ a little early. Besides, I don't even think they're open until lunch."

Fuji cocked his head to the side, as if considering for a moment, before clucking his tongue lightly.

"Saa…I suppose you're right after all, Echizen."

The sharp pang struck yet again and Ryoma couldn't help but wince.

_Echizen…you have to remember…that's all you are to him…a teammate…you aren't "Ryoma" to him. You're just the boy behind the racket. That's all you are. That's all you should be. _

_But…I want him to call me Ryoma again…_

Kikimaru began to squirm and bounce on his heels, a nervous habit that he seemed to have developed.

"Fuji…I'm not really hungry at all…I just…I just want to go home…" Eiji cast his dark eyes downward and his voice was weary. So he hadn't escaped from his fight with Oishi unscathed. Though he sounded perfectly fine he looked…shaken.

Ryoma still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that it had happened. Seeing Oishi cry…and hearing Eiji say those things…his stomach twisted, and Ryoma pressed a hand to his abdomen, hating this weakness that seized him randomly- and for something that really didn't have all that much to do with him in the first place.

_Why? Why am I acting like this? This doesn't make any sense…it's none of my business. _

The tensai's frown dissipated and he ran his hands through his hair, smile drifting back into place. If Ryoma had loathed that pathetic excuse for a smile then, he had no words for what he felt for it now. After seeing a genuine, breathtakingly beautiful smile grace Fuji's face…it was almost sinful to witness a fake one. His senpai turned to face him.

"If Echizen doesn't mind?"

Ryoma shook his head, ignoring the dull ache spreading through him.

_Remember who you are. _

*******************************************************************

Fuji did not consider himself to be a nice person. Despite what the outside world thought, he didn't do the things he did for others.

No, Fuji Syusuke was fundamentally selfish.

It just so happened that certain people benefited from that selfishness and certain people did not.

Eiji was, hands down, the lottery winner.

The red head sat on his couch, chewing on his lip and staring at a spot on the ceiling. He was sprawled out, arms and legs flung every which way.

That couch was Italian leather, and usually, Fuji would've decapitated any person stupid enough to disgrace it in such a way.

It wasn't that Fuji cared about the couch. Oh, heavens no. His parents, on the other hand, did care about the couch- superficial that they were, and Fuji had no desire to incur their wrath.

He wasn't afraid of them. He just preferred to fly under the radar- live as much life as he could while involving them as little as humanly possible. It was easier that way. Late night trysts to Eiji's house were much simpler when his parents naturally assumed he could do no wrong.

Eiji mumbled something incomprehensible and it was obvious that Seigaku's peppiest member was light years away.

Fuji smiled fondly, running a hand through his auburn locks. He really didn't know when it started. This unabashed, unconditional affection he felt for his classmate.

Their friendship, in the beginning, had been a matter of convenience. They had been in the same school, on the same team since elementary school and it was easier to make friends than enemies. Enemies complicated things and Fuji didn't make them unless it was absolutely necessary.

But somewhere along the line, Fuji found himself fascinated by Eiji. By his constant happiness, his ever present laughter, and his naïve wisdom. That genuine love for his fellow man was something Fuji had never been able to understand…Eiji, as simple as he was, was an enigma to him.

And somewhere farther along that line, Fuji found himself holding Eiji close when he knew he shouldn't, stealing kisses while the red head slept…all in secret, of course. Never in the public eye. As far as everyone else was concerned, it was Eiji who initiated the hugs, Eiji who was constantly jumping all over him and babbling incessantly.

And Fuji was fine with that. He didn't really want the outside coming in.

Eiji belonged to him. Plain and simple. It was selfish, yes. But then again, Fuji was a just a selfish guy.

It wasn't romantic, though he himself had wondered about that on a few occasions. He wasn't attracted to Eiji…not in that sense. He found him adorable. He found that pout precious and those big black eyes irresistible. He found that kissing Eiji filled him with warmth that he could never find elsewhere. The acrobat's company was irreplaceable and his reactions priceless. But it wasn't that kind of love.

Because for Fuji, it was never about the warmth or the cuddles or the secret smiles. That was friendship, brotherhood. That was the only thing he held sacred.

For Fuji, it was about the love of the game.

It was about chasing and being chased, wanting and receiving…and in the end, it was about winning. It was about capturing the object of his desire and marking it as his own. It was about obtaining something unattainable…because he was, after all, a prodigy. And Fuji Syusuke always got what he wanted.

Until Tezuka.

Fuji let his smile falter for a split second, before replacing it with a slightly smaller one. He cast half lidded eyes around the room, taking in everything at once.

The bed-headed Eiji seemed out of place in the designer-clad living room, but that wasn't nearly as disturbing as seeing Ryoma sitting there.

The problem with Ryoma…the problem with the olive haired boy sitting in the straight backed chair, hands folded in his lap, cap pulled down so that it was shadowing his face, was that he fit in entirely too well.

Something about him just seemed like it belonged here. Like it belonged with him.

And thoughts like that, Fuji knew, were incredibly dangerous for both of them.

Because when Fuji played, he played ruthlessly, without rules and without reservation. He played for keeps.

But this was different. Because in this instance, he wasn't supposed to want his prize.

In this one instance, the game was simply means to an end.

Or at least…that's how it started. That's how it was supposed to be.

But Ryoma had an advantage in this game…an advantage that he remained oblivious to.

Ryoma was startlingly similar to the only person who had ever escaped Fuji…Tezuka. Those eyes burned with challenge, just like Fuji wanted. Just like he'd expected.

What he hadn't expected was to find himself dwelling on those little things…those things that were uniquely Ryoma's.

The defiant nuances that had earned him the nickname "cocky brat".

The bluntness that Fuji had never possessed…the ability to say one thing and mean it.

The strange arrogance…but that uncanny ability to defend the weak when they truly needed it.

Because the truth was…lately, Fuji hadn't been seeing Tezuka as much in those eyes. He'd been seeing someone else…someone who he'd never seen before.

Someone much more beautiful than Tezuka would ever be.

And that frightened Fuji. In his games, there were certainties that countered the risks. And the most important certainty was that in the end, Fuji would win.

Or else there was no point to the game.

But this…Fuji let his eyes drift open and the golden-eyed boy meet his gaze almost instantly. There it was. The burning.

It didn't matter what Fuji did. He could make the other boy sweat, stammer, and flush…but all of that was worthless.

Because in those eyes…there was something that Fuji could never posses. There was a part of Ryoma that would never belong to him.

And it was that part that Fuji wanted.

And so this game between them was destined to go on…on and on, on and on…until one or both of them was broken in two.

It was the forever game.

Fuji tore his eyes from Ryoma's, smile widening. So this was how it had to be. Granted, there was a part of him that did not want to do this. That did not want to hurt him. There was a part of him that was consciously trying to push Ryoma far, far away.

But that part was losing.

No, it wasn't fair to Ryoma. But hey…Fuji was just a selfish guy.

**************************************

Eiji had always loved Fuji's house. It was always immaculate, not a single chair a centimeter off from where it should be. The design was decidedly western, though there were a few rooms with a native theme.

It was always quiet at Fuji's house. That's probably what Eiji like about it the most. At his house it was never quiet- there was always someone yelling, someone arguing, someone blasting their music to loud. But here…this place was practically a library.

Maybe it was because Fuji's parents were straight laced conservatives, maybe it was because neither Fuji nor his sister were particularly loud people. But it never bothered Eiji, because the silence was oddly comforting.

But today, the quiet was suffocating.

Fuji was sitting in his father's armchair, legs crossed and wistful smile on his face.

Eiji knew that look. Fuji was thinking about something or another but Eiji knew better than to ask what.

Ryoma looked as if he were afraid to breath. He face was uncharacteristically pale and his hands were knotted in his lap. He was sitting straight up and every few moments, he would tug at his cap.

Eiji sighed wanly. He couldn't help but feel as if this were his fault. If it weren't for him, they'd all be sitting in class learning. Not sitting in Fuji's empty house waiting for punishment to fall on their heads. He grimaced.

_Forget Tezuka. My mother's going to kill me when she gets my attendance record next month. Damn…this is all Oishi's fault. Why'd he have to bring it up? Why won't he just let me forget? _

"Eiji, you're hungry, aren't you? You always get hungry around eleven."

It was Fuji who had spoken. He seemed to have resolved his thoughts.

The acrobat squirmed into a sitting position and offered up a toothy grin.

"Oh...Fujiko-chan, are you going to cook something?"

He sounded like a kid in a candy store and he knew it. But he couldn't help it. He loved food. And he especially loved Fuji's cooking.

True to form, the tensai was a master chef. There wasn't really anything the prodigy couldn't do.

Ryoma's eyebrows shot straight into his bangs and he gave a very un-Ryoma like squeak.

Eiji shot him a wide-eyed grin.

"Eh? That's right, ochibi! You don't know about Fuji's famous okonomiyaki!"

But Ryoma didn't seem to care about the food. His golden eyes were dilated and his mouth was hanging open.

"Did you…did you just call Fuji-senpai _Fujiko-chan?_" His tone was incredulous.

Fuji's resulting smirk was nothing short of pure evil.

"Um…yes?" offered Eiji, scrunching up his nose. "Why?"

Ryoma turned a brilliant shade of red and mumbled something incoherent, before yanking his cap down even further.

Fuji chuckled. "Saa…it looks like Echizen isn't used to hearing boys address each other in such a way."

Ryoma's skin was now the color of a glistening tomato.

Eiji clucked his tongue and pushed himself up on his hands, flipping over the back of the couch and coming to a standing position.

"Nya, Fuji. You shouldn't pick on ochibi. After all, it's our fault he's here in the first place. We're not exactly the best mentors."

Ryoma mumbled something softly, and Eiji could only assume it was an agreement.

"Hm….well, I suppose your right, Eiji. But I assumed that it wouldn't be a big deal for him, considering that he's gay."

….._What? _

Time screeched to a stop.

Ryoma's face was pale as a sheet, and he was shaking visibly. His lips parted, but did not move. He seemed to have forgotten how to breath.

Eiji's dark eyes flittered to Fuji in desperation.

_Fuji…what the hell are you doing? _

The tensai was no longer smiling. His piercing, shrewd gaze was focused on the golden eyed, shivering boy across the room.

The azure orbs glinted.

"Aren't you, Echizen?"

Eiji's heart twisted painfully.

_Fuji…stop it… why would you be so cruel? You already know he likes you…_

Ryoma's cap was still shadowing his eyes, but Eiji could still feel the sheer terror radiating from his small form.

"No…I'm not…" his voice was weak, a frail, shallow excuse for his usual one.

Fuji cut him off mid-sentence with a wave of his hand.

"You don't have to lie, Echizen. It really couldn't be anymore obvious."

Eiji had never in his life been so appalled. He loved, adored, and would give his life for Fuji at the drop of a hat…but this. This was inexcusable.

"Fuji. That's enough. Stop it."

The tensai ignored him. "Ryoma…" his voice grew softer, but the amusement was still dancing in his eyes. "You don't have to hide from the two of us. Both of us already know."

Ryoma didn't respond.

"Fuji." Eiji's tone was adamant. Irritation and sympathy mingled within him to form a sickening brew. "Leave him alone. This isn't funny."

The third year raised a slender brow. "It isn't meant to be funny. All I want is his answer."

"He doesn't want to answer you! Leave him alone!" Eiji was borderline shouting. Did Fuji have any idea…any _idea_…what it felt like to be used? To be torn, heartstring from heartstring, in to tiny pieces?

Did Fuji have any idea what it felt like to be a victim of his own sick, twisted little game?

"Not until he tells me the truth." Fuji's eyes never left his victim.

"I told you to cut the shit, already!" Eiji's voice cracked, and his vocal cords thrummed in protest. He hadn't let himself feel this morning. He hadn't let himself care. He hadn't let himself cry- he had run on anger, because anger didn't hurt. Anger was the only thing that didn't hurt. But he'd be damned if he would watch anyone else be ripped apart.

"Ryoma…"

"_Fuji!" _

"Kikimaru-senpai…it's alright…"

Eiji stopped in his tracks, fists clenched, and heart thrumming.

For the first time, the freshman raised his head. His pupils were dilated and he stared, unblinkingly, unwaveringly back at his senpai.

"Don't." He whispered, lashes fluttering. "Don't ask questions when you already know the answer."

***************************************

Coherent thought, at this point, really wasn't an option. There was no shock. No disbelief. No indigence, no anger, no fear.

In fact…he felt strangely…light. Like none of this was really happening. Because Fuji asking him, very bluntly, if he were gay or not was not something that could actually take place in the real world.

Despite everything he'd seen, despite everything that had happened- this couldn't be. Not this.

His mouth moved of its own accord; his brain whirred frantically, desperately, searching for a way to rationalize- to make sense of this. When that failed, autopilot kicked in. Years and years of practiced apathy…of practiced everything…were the only things holding him together now.

Like glue binding together the fragments of broken glass.

"Ryoma." Fuji let the name hang in the air, cerulean eyes unreadable. His mouth was a flat line, and he no longer sounded amused. He sounded tired. "You do realize what you're saying, don't you? You're admitting to being gay- a queer, faggot, fairy, and whatever the hell else people may call it."

Ryoma was vaguely aware of his subconscious revolting in shock. Hearing those vulgar words come out of Fuji's mouth…it was incredibly unnerving.

"Just because people say it, it doesn't make it true, Fuji-senpai."

A deep, weary sadness overtook the tensai then, and a heartbreakingly tender smile flittered across his face. He turned his head to the side, honey brown hair spilling forward.

"No…." he whispered dryly, rubbing his temples in slow circles. "But it doesn't change the fact that it's the way things are." He straightened, and he seemed eerily…haunted.

"Do you really wish that on yourself, Echizen? I know you…I know that you pride yourself on your nonchalance, on your cool composure, on your starkly stubborn, competitive nature. You pride yourself on your tennis. Above all else…you define yourself by the game you play. You must decide…if you want what you used to be- _who_ you used to be. Or if you want this. Because the sad truth is…you may have to choose. You may never be able to have both."

Fuji's voice tapered out, and he heaved a deep sigh that should not belong to someone so young. His eyes drifted closed, and Ryoma was strangely…inexplicably seized with an overwhelming fondness for the boy in front of him.

And his world snapped back into focus. The autopilot switched off. And Ryoma was terrified. But….

"No."

Both Fuji and Eiji's eyes snapped up to meet him. His voice was blank, uncaring. Like it was before…before all of this started. But everything was different now.

"I'm not going to choose." His voice didn't waver, and he snatched his cap off, exposing his drawn face and bright eyes.

"There isn't any reason to. Tennis is tennis. It has nothing to do with whether I'm straight or not. I don't have to change. Whoever said that…whoever said that, Fuji-senpai, was an idiot."

Fuji's tired smile wavered slightly, but he did not appear to be moved.

Kikimaru gnawed his lip anxiously. "Ochibi… Fuji's making it sound a lot worse than it is. It's not like just because your gay, you can't play tennis anymore…you can still go pro, there isn't anything saying you can't. Both of us are, and we're the same as we've always been…"

"Really, Eiji?" Fuji's soft voice sent chills up Ryoma's spine. He had never seen Fuji like this. This quiet intensity was supposed to be a rare thing, reserved only for specified occasions. But…now it seemed as if it would last forever.

"The same as it's always been? What happened this morning…was that the same as it's always been? The way you were yesterday- exhausted, weeping ceaselessly- that's the same as you've always been?"

The acrobat's mouth hung open limply.

Fuji leaned forward, voice hard and soft all at once.

"Are you telling me, Eiji…that you didn't have to choose? Between holding on to the past, everything that you've ever known- and who you are, right now?"

The red head narrowed his eyes. "That has nothing to do with my sexual preference, Fuji. Stop trying to scare him. Even if Oishi was a girl, it doesn't change anything. I loved him. He used me. It's over. Life goes on. Loving and losing has nothing to do with being gay or straight."

Ryoma felt pinpricks slither up his skin, assaulting him again and again. The dark truth, inch by inch, was dawning on him.

Eiji had risked everything for love. And he'd lost it.

Fuji heaved another deep sigh, and he passed his hand over his face, shielding his eyes from view.

"Eiji. I want you to look at Ryoma…look at him, and tell him that Oishi didn't break your heart. Tell him that everything is okay. That I didn't find you broken on the bathroom floor. That everything will go back to normal. That you are the same person you were two months ago. Tell him that."

The spiky haired boy shut his eyes and sank into his seat. All the fire surrounding him had vanished into thin air. He spoke in a hard, flat voice.

"Don't listen to him. Fuji's way is to love a little. Always just enough, just enough to feel satisfied, but never enough to get hurt. I'm not going to tell you that I'm all right, because I'm not. What you saw…was unfortunate, and I'm sorry that you had to see it. But don't use that as an excuse to be afraid."

Ryoma sucked in a ragged breath. It stung the back of his throat.

"I…"

Both boys were looking at him. Tired black and unreadable blue.

"I'm not sure why both of you are making this so complicated. It isn't a choice. It isn't a matter of whether I wish this on myself or not."

The truth of his words crashed down in him, and his denial was swept away like ashes in the wind.

"In the end…what I want doesn't matter. The truth is that I don't want this. But…the truth is…"

His eyes locked with Fuji's and in that moment, everything that was unsaid became painfully clear. Without words, two messages passed between them like an electric current.

I'm trying to save you…

_I'm not going to run. _

"The truth is…this is how it has to be."

****************************************************************

_**Author's Note: This was incredibly difficult for me. That's the trouble with the enigmatic writing style I am so fond of…when it's time to clarify things, dear god; it can be such a bitch. But I hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter will prove to be much more eventful and it will expand on quite a bit, including…ah, you will see. **_


	9. Facing the Day

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis. I own this story. The end.

Author's Note: Remember in the beginning how I said I didn't like author's notes? Well, now I see why people insist on them. They are quite amusing. Anyway, thank you to all who have reviewed. All of you people who subscribe but are too lazy to review - I know where you live. Very few reviews last chapter…. it saddened me. I hope you all aren't losing interest. By the way…please check out my new story, _Redemption Song. _Thanks.

**Warning:** **This chapter may contain some M rated content. I am issuing a warning now. There will be chapters in the future with M content, and I will post a warning at the beginning of each one. ****If you all wish for me to adjust the rating accordingly, I shall do so. I'm not sure if I should, please be the judge of that for me. **

_Chapter Nine: Facing the Day _

Time was an amazing thing. That was all Eiji could think as he watched Ryoma walk out the door. The child- because really, that's what he was- had politely declined to stay for lunch. He hadn't seemed upset. After their volatile conversation had drawn to a close, he'd returned to his usual self. Cool, calm, appropriately apathetic Echizen. Fuji too had proceeded to prepare lunch for the two of them as if nothing had happened at all. The black haired boy had simply stated, "I'll see you tonight," walked out the door, and that was the end of it. Time had come, changed everything, and then time had gone.

This was where Eiji would remain forever out of the loop. That one particular quality that Seigaku's strongest three seemed to posses- Tezuka, Fuji, and Ryoma were all able to remain the same, regardless of if world came crashing down around them. He didn't get it. He didn't _want_ to get it. Because truthfully, it made him sick. To pretend that people didn't matter. That what happened to people didn't matter, that _life _didn't matter. It bothered him.

Fuji's soft humming resonated through out the kitchen, and the normalcy of it all- the way that everything was exactly the same as it had always been- was driving him insane.

"Fuji." He bit out, causing the tensai to pause, grilled cheese still sizzling on the stove.

The honey haired boy quirked an eyebrow before turning back to his work, expertly flipping the western sandwiches oh so slightly.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever talk to me again."

Eiji glared at his best friend's back.

"It's not like you've earned it." He quipped, ignoring his growling stomach and the delicious aroma emanating from Fuji's cooking. "You're a selfish bastard, sometimes, you know that?"

Fuji chuckled softly, transferring the stack of grilled cheese onto a serving platter. He then moved to the fridge.

"What would you like to drink, Eiji? We have sparkling water, sparkling cider, grape soda, orange soda, Pepsi, Coke, Sprite, Absolut Vodka Original, Absolut Vodka Raspberry, Jack Daniels, tequila, and Ichiban Original."

Eiji growled. "Fuji, quit changing the subject. What the hell was with the Spanish Inquisition back there- wait? Did you say _vodka_?"

Fuji turned to face him, looking highly amused with himself.

"Hm? Oh, yes. My sister was kind enough to purchase some for us."

Eiji's mouth dropped open. The tensai had pulled some truly insane stunts in the past, but this was just- ridiculous.

"You got your sister to buy us liquor?" he flat lined, unable to fully comprehend the tensai's obviously warped logic.

Fuji clucked his tongue and pulled out a can of orange soda- Eiji's favorite- and tossed it at the stunned red head.

"Really, Eiji," he sighed, reaching for the platter of steaming hot grilled cheese, "I thought you'd be the last person to have a problem with it."

He placed the food on the kitchen table and sat down, smile never faltering.

"Aren't you going to eat, Eiji? I'm sorry it's so plain…my mother must've forgotten to go shopping."

The kicker was that the tensai sounded truly apologetic. About the food. Not about the fact that he had:

Treated Ryoma like a suspected terrorist and all but _pushed _him out of the closet.

Orchestrated this entire plan to skip school- they were all dead men, as far as Eiji was concerned.

Purchased alcohol for six fifteen year olds, two fourteen year olds, and a thirteen year old kid.

Eiji's left eye twitched. "Fuji…I swear to God…you are absolutely insane. What in hell are you trying to pull?"

Laughing blue eyes fluttered open for an instant, before closing again. Fuji reached for a sandwich and took a dainty little bite.

"Hm…what do you think, Eiji? Does it need pepper?"

If life had been a show, Eiji would've fallen out of his chair. Instead he contended himself with turning a mottled shade of red.

"…Fuji…." He ground out, all but shoving his own food down his throat. After a few seconds of appreciative silence, he continued.

"I realize that there is absolutely no point in asking you why you did this, because I know you well enough to realize that I will never get a straight answer. I also know that you only do things for a reason. I could ask you what your reason was, but I think that's fairly clear."

Fuji raised a slender brow.

"My reason?" He let his smile slide into that sadistic smirk he seemed to so favor. "I thought it was fairly standard for teenagers to drink at these social gatherings."

"You-," the red head snapped, taking a swig of his soda, "Are anything but a standard teenager. So just cut the shit, already."

Dancing blue eyes met his own.

"My, my, aren't we testy today?"

"I hate you."

The tensai clucked his tongue. Eiji's skin crawled.

"Since when have you gotten so serious, Eiji? It isn't like you."

The acrobatic boy only glared in response. Fuji sighed, swiping a few strands of hair off of his porcelain forehead.

"Alright, alright. The last thing I want is for you to be angry with me." He sounded sincere enough, and Eiji couldn't help but crack a tiny grin.

The tensai continued, his azure eyes warm all of a sudden. It was slightly unnerving…those eyes were open far more often now, and Eiji wasn't used to seeing such a softness in them. It was almost…haunting.

"I honestly have no intention of anyone getting hurt. I don't wish to humiliate anyone."

Eiji frowned. "Then why did you do that to ochibi? And why the drinks?"

Fuji smiled softly. "I…do not wish to break Ryoma." His voice grew soft, almost tender. "Or anyone else."

The red head leaned forward, the pieces slowly clicking together. It was impossible. This wasn't the Fuji he knew. The Fuji he knew did not call Ryoma by his first name, or speak of him with such warmth in his voice. That voice was for him alone. That voice…meant that this was no longer just a game.

"Wait a minute. Fuji…do you…do you love him?" Eiji's voice was laced with disbelief.

Fuji's resulting laugh did not reach his eyes. Those blue orbs flickered with a profound sadness.

"No, Eiji." He said sweetly, leaning over the table and running his thumb along the acrobat's jaw line. "I don't love him."

A shiver ran up Eiji's spine, but he didn't pull away. That gaze was so…heartbreakingly…perfect. This sadness on Fuji…it was beyond lovely.

"Then why?"

The tensai pulled away, and for a split second, he seemed to wilt. But then the moment passed and Fuji was standing, collecting dishes in his arms and smiling wanly.

"You see, Eiji. The problem isn't that I love him. The problem is…the problem is I know that I could."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

If Ryoma had been thinking straight, he wouldn't be standing outside his house, waiting for Momoshiro to meet him at seven o' clock in the evening. A growl passed through his lips as he shot a glance at his watch. Momoshiro was running late. And no doubt when the spiky haired boy did arrive, he'd grill Ryoma non-stop about why he'd skipped school.

He should never have lied to his parents and said, "It's a club thing." Even though, technically, it was a club thing, he doubted his parents would see it as such.

And most importantly, he should've never, never, never, in a million years have told Fuji Syusuke that he was gay.

Ryoma felt the all too familiar twisting in his stomach, and a pained grimace flitted across his young face.

He'd never thought of himself as gay before. In fact, despite the obvious, he still didn't. Ryoma had never been a fan of labels.

He wasn't "gay" in the typical sense of the word. He wasn't attracted to other men. He had never struggled with his sexuality before- his sexual interest in others, up until this point, had been nonexistent. He was a well content asexual.

And then there was Fuji.

Ryoma had memorized every detail of the face that haunted his dreams- every contour of those perfect, agonizingly soft lips, ever flutter of those dark eyelashes, every strand of impossibly sleek, honey brown locks…and every glimmer in those all-seeing, unforgiving eyes.

Denial was still rooted deep within him, but after today…there was no point, was there? It was all out in the open. Kikimaru-senpai…no. Ryoma couldn't explain, but the two of them shared an unidentifiable familiarity now. They were both planets caught helplessly in the orbit of the sun.

Eiji was gay. Eiji had been involved with Oishi…Ryoma colored a pale shade of raspberry…physically. Very physically, from what he gathered. The idea of his bouncy senpai giving head was…strangely erotic.

_Wait a minute. Did I just think…the idea of Eiji-senpai…putting his mouth…on…another boy's…. Oh my God. What the hell is happening to me? _

He shook his head viciously, face turning a mottled purple.

_No! No! I did not just think-but wait? How would that work with me and…with me and Fuji? I mean…if I…but, would I? I mean… would I let him put it…in my mouth? _

Tingles shot up the freshman's spine at the very thought, and he licked his lips, mouth suddenly unbearably dry. The blood rushed from his face and if it weren't for superior self-control, it would have made it all the way down. And even then…Ryoma was becomingly increasingly aware of his previously neglected anatomy. He felt it's odd…warmth in a way that he hadn't before.

_Hmph. I shouldn't be acting like such a girl. It's not like I'm going to sleep with him. _

_No_, challenged his subconscious, _but that's only because you're scared. It isn't because you don't want to. Look at you…just thinking about it has gotten you hard…_

_No! You're wrong! I'm not…it isn't like that! _

Laughter, dark peals emanating from a depth Ryoma hadn't known he possessed.

_You can't deny it. You want him more than you've ever wanted anything. He thrills you more than anything ever could…more than tennis ever will. You want him to own you, posses you…you want him to make you scream his name… _

"Echizen! Oy, Echizen!"

Ryoma's golden eyes snapped open, pupils dilated and quivering. His breath came in short gasps and… his jeans were uncomfortably tight.

Momoshiro was standing before him, straddling his bike. His oblivious grin was able to return Ryoma's heart beat to normal, but the color lingered on his face.

After a moment of expectant silence, the second year frowned.

"Echizen…are you alright?" He made to get off the bike, but Ryoma waved a shaking hand.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I think I'm coming down with something." The lie flowed smoothly off his tongue, but when he saw Momo's concerned frown deepen, a twinge of guilt plucked at his heartstrings.

The purple-eyed boy didn't look convinced, but he didn't pursue the matter. Ryoma climbed onto his familiar perch alongside his senpai. A wave of relief crashed over him as soon as the wind did. The breeze blew back his hair and a smile drifted to his lips.

And in that moment, he felt as if nothing had changed. He was riding beside his best friend, with free abandon, not a care in the world.

He was Echizen Ryoma, and everything was as it should be.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It had never been like this. It had been bad, and bad had been worse, but it had _never _been like this.

The Seigaku regulars sat in a perfect circle in the center of the living room. The couches had been pushed back and the lights had been dimmed, the atmosphere had been set. But the tension was positively unbearable.

After this morning's fiasco on the roof, the entire team was in shambles. No one made eye contact or spoke. It was obvious that most members had seriously considered not coming at all.

And frankly, Momoshiro couldn't blame them. He had never been the most observant or perceptive person, but even he couldn't miss the obvious friction between his senpai-tachi…and, oddly enough, his best friend.

He risked a glance to his left. Ryoma was sitting with his legs crossed, leaning back on his hands and looking oddly…at ease.

That was more than the dunk smash specialist could say for his fellow teammates.

Inui was scribbling away in his little blue book, the soft scratch of the pencil against paper the only noise save for the occasional nervous cough or fidget.

Kawamura was next to him, scratching the back of his head and looking confused. He obviously didn't understand why the aura was tense…

Though, it was pretty hard to miss Oishi and Eiji's staring contest. The two of them were deadlocked, and he could practically see the sparks flying between them. Before…they'd ignored each other. That was bearable. Apparently, something horrible had ended their friendship and therefore, their doubles partnership.

Momo still had hope that they'd work through it, that it was just a phase. But if they went all out on each other before that could happen…it could split the team in two.

Tezuka was impervious as always. The only indication he noticed the discord was the small frown pooled between his eyebrows.

The purple-eyed boy bit his lip and looked to his right. The viper was sulking, putting up a pathetic front at looking indifferent. It was failing miserably.

Fuji, besides Ryoma, was the only one who looked even remotely comfortable. In fact…he looked downright jolly.

The tensai's usually placid demeanor seemed to crackle with energy. It was the type of energy that Momo had rarely been given a chance to see. It had never before left a court.

The freshman beside him heaved an exasperated sigh.

"Oy, Fuji. Are we just going to sit here all night?"

Eight pairs of shocked eyes turned to him. The silence had been broken, finally, and by the most unlikely of people.

But that wasn't why Momo's mouth was hanging open.

Fuji. Not Fuji-senpai. Just Fuji. He didn't know why he was so shocked. It's not as if he hadn't noticed.

Perceptive he may not be, but when it came to his friend…his best friend…there was nothing he did not see. Because the truth was, Ryoma was like a little brother to him…more than that. Momoshiro was almost certain the he cared for his kohai more than his kohai cared for him, and so he kept his peace.

And so when Ryoma's gaze started lingering on Fuji just a moment longer, Momo noticed.

When Ryoma stopped focusing in games, Momo noticed.

When Ryoma looked at him with those wide, golden eyes and said, "I'm alright", Momo knew that he was most decidedly not.

And so now, when the two prodigies eyes met and the air seemed charged with a sudden heat, the tension cracked like a shattered vase a small, hint of a smile stretched across the olive haired boy's face

And Momoshiro knew that Ryoma and Fuji were intertwined, in whatever way, for whatever reason. He knew he wasn't going to be able to change that.

Because the smile on Ryoma's face…was a smile that Momoshiro was never able to bring.

It was for Fuji. Only Fuji.

And it was all right. Because it had to be.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He should've quit while he was ahead. This incessant desire to challenge Fuji…to make him sweat, to beat him, was second only to his desire to feel that soft skin on his.

But old habits died hard, and Ryoma had never been one to back down. Love was love, but he wasn't a girl, and he wasn't about to start acting like one.

"Fuji, you brought us all out here. Some of us-," Ryoma had to resist the urge to point a finger, "Against their will. So you better have some sort of plan. Or I'm going home."

Gleeful, half lidded blue eyes sparkled curiously.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The surprise was so convincing, Ryoma might've believed him. "There's snacks in the kitchen- oh, dearest me. I must've forgotten to bring them out."

Eiji made a snorting noise. "Fuji, this has gone on long enough. Just tell them what you planned."

The regulars all looked intensely curious, Inui had stopped his scribbling and Kaidoh let out an expectant hiss. Tezuka's frown deepened. He knew Fuji well, and he was right to be wary.

Ryoma glared pointedly at his love interest.

"Yes. Do."

The tensai chuckled. Tezuka looked as if he very much wanted to disband this party right now, before someone got seriously injured.

"Eiji is simply referring to an idea we thought up this morning." He sounded oh-so-innocent. It was nauseating.

Tezuka's left eye twitched.

"You mean this morning when the three of you decided to take a field trip?" The captain's voice was icy.

Fuji met Tezuka's gaze, unperturbed by the accusation. "It was necessary." He stated simply. Eiji didn't even bother replying, he just whimpered something imperceptible and huddled behind Fuji.

Ryoma winced. He'd known this was coming. It was only a matter of when.

"Um…Buchou…"

The leader turned hard as flint eyes to him.

"And _you_, Echizen. I expected it from Eiji. But how could you let them rope you into this? Did you even think about what it would mean for the team? Do you know how much fast talking I had to do in order to cover your ass?"

Ryoma's heart dropped through his chest cavity and settled somewhere around his knees. The man he admired…the man who'd meant the most for so long, was looking at him as if he were the scum of the earth. And it stung.

"Buchou, I'm sorry, I didn't think-."

A voice filled with disdain cut him off. "It's obvious that you didn't think, Echizen. Do you even care about this team anymore? Or-," a strange bitterness, unfamiliar to all the stunned onlookers, filled his tone. "Have you found something more important?"

Ryoma felt his mouth go dry. The acidic residue in the back of his throat was choking him, he couldn't speak. It felt as if someone had slashed him across the chest and was leaving him to bleed until the life drained from his body.

Momoshiro, previously mute, offered up a shaky protest. "Buchou, that's impossible. Nothing is more important to him than tennis-."

"Did anyone ask you to speak, Momoshiro? Or are you just firing off your mouth as usual?" It was Oishi. His characteristically mother hen tone was gone, as was the softness in his eyes.

The purple eyed boy's mouth snapped shut. His cheeks flushed a furious red. Inui's scribbling increased frantically.

Ryoma felt a wave of anger mingle with his humiliation. But Eiji beat him to it.

"Shut the fuck up, already, Oishi, and get your mouth off of Tezuka's ass for three damn seconds." His voice was plain and neutral, but that was what made it so shocking. No one had ever heard Eiji speak like that. Especially not to Oishi.

Tezuka let out an affronted "Eiji!" but Fuji quickly silenced them all.

"If you want to pick a fight, Oishi, do it on your time." He stated it simply and quietly, but it was enough to drop the temperature in the room a few degrees.

Tezuka regained his momentum, obviously irate at being cut off.

"Fuji, you seem to be under the impression that you run things these days. You've got Eiji and Echizen wrapped around your pinkie finger, don't you?"

Kaidoh let out a hiss. "Buchou…" he mumbled in that gravely voice of his. Everyone ignored him.

Eiji snorted. "You're one to talk. You've practically got Oishi following you around like a puppy dog."

The "puppy dog" went a mottled purple and made as if to stand.

"Oh, I get how it is, Eiji. You're screwing Fuji now. Makes perfect sense. You always did need someone to want you. I'm just glad it isn't me anymore."

The dead silence that came following that comment did not last long. Ryoma's heart lodged on the soles of his feet. Every move he mad crushed it further.

"You and Oishi…were…together?" wheezed Inui, pen looking as if it might burst into flame.

"No," hissed Eiji, voice deadly low. "Oishi just used me to get his rocks off. He's done now, though. So I can go back to fucking people who don't finish after a minute and a half."

Taka squealed and recoiled into the corner. He, along with the rest of the team, looked positively horrified.

"So that's why," mumbled Kaidoh, an odd mix of understanding and repulsion in his voice.

Fuji's voice, no longer soft, no longer whimsical, filled the room. No one had ever heard the tensai yell, and he wasn't yelling now. But he wasn't whispering either.

" If anyone." He flat lined. "Has a problem with Eiji, I suggest you leave my house while you still have the use of your legs."

"Fuji. This is not your team." –Tezuka practically growled and stood in one fluid motion. Oishi followed suit.

Eiji stood before Fuji could, practically leering forward. "Don't talk to him like that. He's your fucking friend."

Ryoma couldn't move. He was rooted to the spot. His brain had yet to process what he saw as reality.

The team, the friends who had been closer than brothers…standing on opposite sides and ripping each other to shreds. It was impossible.

How could everything they'd done…everything they'd been through together, with Nationals around the corner, mean _nothing_?

Oishi sneered. "What the hell would you know about friendship, Eiji? You can't even talk to someone without falling in fucking love with them."

Fuji was up in an instant, standing in front of Eiji, blue eyes open fully. They swirled with pure fury, disdain etched into every muscle in his body.

Ryoma had never seen him so angry.

"Leave my house." He whispered, voice shaking with indignation. "Right now."

Oishi spluttered, before shooting one last desperate glare at Eiji. "I'm not going to-,"

"Oishi." Tezuka broke in, voice flat. "We're going. This party is over. Everyone. Let's go."

The silence fell yet again, but this time, it was empty. There was no emotion in the air, because everyone was feeling too much. Everyone knew what Tezuka was asking.

He was asking them to choose.

Side with him. Or side with Fuji. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryoma thought how bitterly ironic this was.

Tezuka cast his hard hazel eyes around the room. Inui ceased his scribbling and stood on shaky legs, eyes downcast. He didn't look in Fuji's direction.

"Thank you for inviting me." He mumbled. He left the room.

Eiji's face seemed to sag, like an old man's as he watched Inui leave with impassive eyes.

Oishi opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Ryoma was angry with his vice captain, but after seeing him break this morning…he wasn't really surprised it had come to this.

Oishi had poured out his soul. And now there was nothing left but the hatred. Hatred was the only thing the two of them had anymore.

Taka looked up at them desperately, with big, red eyes. He honestly looked close to tears.

"Is this…" he choked out, "Is this what we've come to then? Sniping at each other?" He stood suddenly, eyes burning. "If this what we've become…than I can't bear to watch it anymore!"

He cradled his head in his hands and walked, slowly, out of the room. Like a man going to his grave.

Fuji's blue eyes flickered with sadness. He'd liked Taka.

And then there was Kaidoh. He didn't say anything. It wasn't like him to be dramatic. He cast one last glance at Ryoma and Momoshiro, and then he too was gone. Momoshiro's eyes disappeared from view.

Something inside of Ryoma snapped. In three weeks- three measly weeks- everything had broken.

Oishi stared at his shaking hands, as if screaming silently, _What have I done? _

His olive eyes were swirling with a thousand emotions, and he looked at Eiji one final time. His face fell and his cheeks seemed to cave in. He looked like a shadow of the man he'd been. And then he pushed past Tezuka towards the exit. A door slammed in the distance.

Momoshiro didn't move in inch. Tezuka studied him for a moment, before closing his eyes and reopening them. Ryoma turned shocked eyes toward his friend. He received a shy smile and a wink in response.

Tezuka turned unreadable hazel eyes toward Ryoma. He no longer looked imposing…he looked…tired. He hesitated.

"Echizen…Ryoma…" he paused, as if weighing the name on his tongue. "Ryoma…" he said it with more confidence this time, like a man convinced of his own justice. "Ryoma, don't do this. You have so much potential…you could be so great. You could be better than all of us. Ryoma…don't _do _this…think of your tennis…"

And then all of a sudden, as uncertain golden eyes met pleading brown ones, Ryoma understood. He understood all of the implications of the word "this."

_Don't leave the team. _

_Don't forget who you are. What you want. _

_  
Don't leave all of your friends. _

_Don't leave me. _

_Don't choose Fuji. _

_  
Stay with me. _

_  
Please…stay… _

And Ryoma remembered. Remembered from what felt like so long ago. How he'd once felt about Tezuka- the respect, the admiration…the silent connection that had been only for the two of them. The desire to please him above all else. The sheer, unadulterated awe he'd felt whenever the two of them walked onto a court together. The way that Tezuka had looked at him with that look that promised everything. And he wanted to say something. He wanted to say, _"I'm not leaving you! It doesn't have to be like this! Why are you making me choose between the two things that I love? I can't! I can't! Why are you asking me this?" _

He wanted to shout, yell, scream and rage. He wanted to loose his cool and make them see, make them all see that this was foolish, so beyond foolish. He wanted to see what they were doing. What they were undoing. But he couldn't. He couldn't say a word.

He cast desperate eyes towards Fuji, but the tensai did not look at him. Those blue eyes were focused a thousand miles away.

No reassurance whatsoever. Fuji wasn't even asking him to stay. Because God knows, if he'd only ask, if he'd only show any inclination that Ryoma mattered to him…but no. That wasn't his way.

Ryoma squeezed his fist tight.

_I shouldn't even be thinking about this. I love tennis. Tennis is the most important thing to me, and nothing else should matter. _

But that isn't what fell from his mouth. Because everything he'd been for the past thirteen years of his life was nothing but ashes in the wind.

"I'm…sorry…Buchou." He whispered. There was nothing else he could say. Whatever was left of him twisted and broke. The pieces sank into nothing. "I'm so sorry."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Stop him. Stop him now. _

The chant reverberated inside Fuji's head, over and over. As the horrible scene played out before his eyes, as the blood of more and more fell onto his hands, that was all he could think.

And when Tezuka turned accusing eyes towards him, he could not look away. He could only look back at the best friend he'd lost.

_I wanted to hurt him. _His brain rationalized. _This is what I wanted. _

But the look in his captain's eyes was the last thing he ever wanted to see. But even as he walked away, Fuji knew that he would see it for the rest of his life.

And when the door shut for the final time, Fuji looked around him. He looked at Eiji, whose dark eyes were swimming with unshed tears. He looked at Momoshiro, who'd been roped into this only because he refused to leave his friend's side.

And he looked at Ryoma. The boy's small frame was perfectly still. His golden eyes were wide and disbelieving. He looked to be made of stone. A stone that was trying desperately not to cry. He looked at the child who'd given up everything he'd ever loved for _him_.

And the only thing he could think…

_I win. _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_**Author's Note: Please, please review. They give me the strength to write on. I lost my brother a few weeks ago, and I'm really trying to push through. Thanks for everything, guys. **_


	10. Chasing Truth

_**Author's Note: I am so sorry it has taken so long. To tell you the truth, I've been a wreck lately. Thank you all for the support. The landmark chapter ten. Five more to go. I promise they will come sooner. Please review. **_

_Chapter Ten: Chasing Truth_

He'd always been a coward. Running, jumping, flipping- doing anything and everything to _avoid _rather than stand and fight. After all, it was Eiji's specialty. He was an acrobat.

So was it really any surprise now, as the world came crashing down, that he didn't bother trying to put it back together? No. He only sat and watched from the corner, clutching a beer with bone white fingers. His throat burned, but it distracted him from the screaming ache in his chest. Ryoma, always the fighter, had been the first to break. He'd disappeared into the kitchen the second Tezuka had walked out the door.

Eiji ignored Momo's pleading gaze. He didn't want to look at Fuji's newest casualty. He didn't know if he could. Fuji himself was nowhere to be found. He'd disappeared off somewhere as well, leaving the rest of them in pieces without a backwards glance. For a brief moment, Eiji wanted to go to him.

_Why? _He thought bitterly, taking a swing of his drink. _So he can tell me that everything is going to be okay? So he can look me in the eyes and tell me, with that perfectly serene smile, that everything is going to be fine? _

A soft, hesitant voice broke into the red head's thoughts. Red rimmed, coal black eyes met purple orbs.

"Senpai...," the second year hesitated. "I have to go now. But…please tell Echizen that I'm…tell him that…"

Eiji shut his eyes. He'd know the look on Momoshiro's face anywhere. The mask of boyish contentedness, the goofy grin that screamed false confidence, false strength. The eyes that shouted, plain as day, the truth that no one wanted to see.

"If you him to know you love him." The acrobat whispered. "Tell him yourself, Momo."

The dunk smash specialist's mouth fell open and for a few seconds, he looked as if he were going to break as well. A strangled laugh forced itself from his throat and he cast his eyes downward.

"Is it that obvious?" The voice was tired, and Eiji could only guess that after everything that had happened, there was no use for denial anymore.

"No." Eiji responded flatly, crunching the empty beer can between his palms. "But I'm the last person you can hide it from. Being in love with your best friend is kind of my thing."

The taller boy ran a tan hand through wild black locks, and he looked unsure whether or not to laugh at the joke or cry at the irony of it all.

"It's okay, though, sempai. That Ryoma likes someone else." Momoshiro offered a weak smile, but received nothing in response. Besides, Eiji knew that he wasn't the one trying to be convinced. "It's really okay. I just want him to be happy."

Something clenched then, and a horrible crunching sound echoed in Eiji's ears. He tossed the can across the room.

_Happy? _

When Eiji didn't respond, Momoshiro stood and crossed the room. With his hand on the doorknob, he hesitated.

"Senpai…"

The implications hung in the air.

_Senpai. Tell me it's going to be alright. Tell me I made the right choice. Tell me I can be with him, watch him with some one else, leave everything else behind…even though he doesn't love me. _

_Tell me that I'm not going to end up like you. _

_Please. _

_Tell me. _

Eiji didn't look at him. The door clicked shut.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ryoma was, by no stretch of the imagination, a normal boy. He was not fickle or frivolous, and many his age found a disconnect between them. Ryoma was different. Better.

But that difference came with a devastating price- to be forever trapped inside of his own head. He had no one. That difference made him alone.

And then there was Tezuka. For the first time, someone had understood him. Someone had been able to read past the false pretense, break through the shell. Tezuka was a kindred spirit, the one person who could truly understand him.

The one person for whom he did not have to hide.

Tennis had always been his life. His purpose, the reason he drew breath. Tennis was tennis. Tennis was the only thing that mattered.

Ryoma's life had been perfectly, meticulously constructed around those two constants. Those two certainties had kept him whole.

And now both of them were gone.

The young tennis prodigy drew his knees in tighter. The cool wood of Fuji's kitchen counters was hard against his back. Ryoma feared that if he moved from the concrete, from the absolute, that he would spin into nothingness.

_This is what you wanted. _ The voice in the back of his head pushed itself forward. He had neither the energy nor the will to struggle. He could only sit and listen, golden eyes wide and staring at a spot that no longer existed.

_This is exactly what you wanted. You wanted Fuji. You were jealous. You wanted him all to yourself. But even know, you're still so selfish. You want Tezuka as well. You want everything. You want to keep them both near you, but away from each other. _

_Why? Why is it so important for you to keep them apart? _

_What are you afraid of Ryoma? _

"Enough." He managed to push the whisper through chapped lips, unaware that he had spoken until he felt the whoosh of air across his tongue. "This is foolish."

_Foolish? A fitting word, considering what a fool you've been. Do you really think that Fuji wants you? That he loves you? Do you really think you mean anything to him at all? Think about it, Ryoma. He didn't ask you to stay. He doesn't want you. Neither did Tezuka. _

_You're nothing more than a little boy with a pathetic little crush…_

"Ryoma!"

The frightened scream that tore itself from his throat jolted Ryoma's heart back into beating. His eyes snapped open. Piercing, crystalline blue met him, only inches away from his face.

His heart beat ceased.

"Ryoma," the voice said again. Fuji's thumb ran a trail down his jaw line. Spots of electricity danced along Ryoma's spine, and he could feel the sweat pouring off of him. It dripped down his back, drop by agonizing drop.

Fuji's pale face glowed in the semi darkness of the kitchen. Those unflinching eyes locked with Ryoma's own, and the gravitational pull was inescapable. A thousand random neurons seemed to fire in his brain all at once, and the only clear thought that escaped was just how beautiful Fuji really was.

_Like an angel. The angel of death. _

"Ryoma, are you alright? You were shaking." Fuji's voice was low and deep, far deeper than Ryoma was used to hearing it. The younger boy shook his head, jerking out of his elder's grasp.

"I'm fine." The tremors in his voice revealed his lie, and Ryoma felt his face flush hot. "Really, senpai. Just a little tired."

Cerulean orbs flashed with something akin to amusement. "Tired? It's only nine thirty. Is it past your bedtime already?"

Indignation sparked inside of him, mixing with his frazzled emotions to form a sickening brew.

"Leave me alone." He snapped, standing in one fluid motion. Fuji followed, but did not alleviate the close proximity between them. If anything, he moved closer, pressing Ryoma against the counter. The marble pressed into the small of his back.

"No need to snap, Ryoma. I was only trying to help you." Fuji's voice was flat and dry, as was his face. As much as he loathed that fake smile, Ryoma couldn't help but wish it would return. Anything had to be better than that flat, hard line.

"Stop it." Ryoma bit out, unable to control the rising anger in the pit of his belly. Days and days of racing thoughts, sleepless nights, tormented waking hours, and for what? Someone who obviously didn't give a damn whether he lived or died.

"Stop with the bullshit."

Fuji's delicate eyebrows rose until they were lost into a perfectly groomed mane of honey brown locks.

"Bullshit? Aren't you a little young to be using language like that?"

The rage that had previously been contained exploded inside of Ryoma, and for a split second, all he saw was brilliant red. The frayed tethers that had been holding him together snapped.

His life was destroyed. Strung about in microscopic pieces that had no hope of ever being put back together. And he had been the one to destroy it, rip it apart voluntarily with his own hands.

His team. His dream.

Everything he'd ever wanted.

For this.

"Shut up! Just shut the _fuck _up!" The scream was loud enough to shake the rafters, and indeed, it seemed to rattle the very foundations of Ryoma's soul. "It isn't funny, Fuji! It isn't fucking _funny _anymore!"

His arms moved of their own accord, and with a sudden burst of strength, he shoved against Fuji's chest. The tensai's face was frozen in disbelief, and he fell back without a fight, landing with a loud thud.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryoma thought he should savor the only moment that Fuji Syusuke had ever been speechless.

The kitchen door burst open. Ryoma didn't have to look up from his hazy red view of his tennis shoes to see Eiji standing there.

For a moment, there was no sound. The silence was almost sacred.

The soft, almost imperceptible sound of Fuji rising and brushing off his clothes set the world back into motion.

"That was unnecessary, Ryoma." He stated it plainly, as if it were merely an observation. The normalcy of it all drove Ryoma mad. A retort, hot and scathing jumped to his tongue and his palms ached with the need to hurt someone, anyone.

Someone had to feel this pain with him.

"The fuck if it wasn't."

Ryoma's retort died on his tongue. Two pairs of eyes zeroed in on the person who had spoken. Eiji's dark eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, and he looked to be shaky on his feet. A thin film of sweat glistened in the dimming light.

Ryoma's retort died on his tongue. Two pairs of eyes zeroed in on the person who had spoken. Eiji's dark eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, and he looked to be shaky on his feet. A thin film of sweat glistened on his skin in the dimming light.

The red head cast one sweeping glance around the kitchen, before his mouth twisted into a demented smile. He jabbed a finger somewhere in Ryoma's general vicinity.

"You the one who knocked Prince Charming on his ass?"

Ryoma blinked, and shook his head, as if to clear it of fog. All he could manage was a vague nod, as if to say, _Who else? _

Eiji was obviously…off. But Ryoma couldn't quite put his finger on the problem.

The acrobat nodded vigorously, grotesque smile still in place. "Good job. Cocky little shit was asking for it."

Fuji cleared his throat, a peculiar, odd note entering his tone. "Eiji." He didn't sound as soft as he usually sounded with his best friend. There was slight edge on it…like shaved ice. "You're drunk."

Ryoma's eyes widened and he turned back to the bounciest regular. It was true. Eiji was teetering on his feet and Ryoma had seen that flush on his father's cheeks many a time. But still...Eiji? It was hard to wrap his mind around. But then again, Ryoma thought grimly, nothing makes sense anymore.

The accused drunk made a guttural sound which Ryoma could only assume was denial.

"So?" he hiccupped, jabbing a finger in Fuji's direction. Eiji paused and cocked his head to one side, before breaking out into a wide toothed smile. "Hey, Fujiko-chan. You did it. You got Ryoma all to yourself."

Ryoma felt his heart flutter widely against his ribs, as if trying to escape what was next to come. Then it ceased to struggle completely.

"What?" he whispered, golden eyes swinging to Fuji. The tensai stood stock still, eyes focused on Eiji. They glinted like finely polished steel.

"Eiji. There's been enough trouble tonight. Don't add any more with your drunken ramblings. Go upstairs, run some water on your head, and go to sleep." Fuji's tone was neutral and unassuming, but there was something beneath the surface that made Ryoma very sure it was not a question.

Ryoma's previous anger morphed into something entirely different- sticky, heavy apprehension that weighed on his lungs until drawing breath sent shocks of pain throughout his body. His tongue pried itself from the roof of his mouth.

"No, Eiji-senpai. What did you say?"

Both of them looked at him then, but Ryoma didn't look at Fuji. He focused on Eiji. Red rimmed eyes blinked at him twice, uncomprehending, but then the acrobat let out a giddy chuckle.

"You mean you didn't know? Fujiko-chan wanted you away from buchou."

Time stopped. A cleaver fell from the heavens and sliced Ryoma straight in half, leaving his life's blood to drain onto the floor. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

Fuji's face remained impassive, but the tension in his muscles was unmistakable. He walked forward and in a few, brisk movements, lifted Eiji off the ground. The other boy was too stunned to move at first, but he quickly began to struggle and kick. Fuji held him tight against his chest and showed no signs of letting go.

The sight might have, once upon a time, been comical.

"Let me go! Put me down, Fujiko! I didn't do anything! Let _go_!" The red head screamed at the top of his lungs, beating against Fuji's chest with his fist. The honey haired boy didn't flinch.

Ryoma couldn't bring himself to move. Eiji's struggling only increased, and tears peaked at the corner of his wide eyes.

"Let go of me! I hate you! This is your entire fucking fault! You and your stupid games! I hate you! _I hate you!_"

The cry reverberated like a savage war chant, filling Ryoma's head until it was all he could hear. It grew louder and louder by the second, drowning out coherent thought and numbing him to the core.

And in that moment, Ryoma knew he had to leave that kitchen. He had to run, get away, far, far away from the screaming and the games and the truths that weren't really true at all.

Or he'd be torn apart, limb from limb, until nothing was left.

Never mind the face that he would go back, he _always_ went back. He couldn't stay away. Fuji was his drug, his all consuming addiction. Unimaginable pleasure and pain that left him with nothing but need. And so he'd be back, Ryoma knew he'd be back, but he couldn't stay now.

He couldn't.

And so he ran. He didn't bother to stop when Fuji called his name.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Slow down._

_What's on your mind?_

_It's alright…I'm on your side._

_I hate to see your injury. I wish that you could transfer all your pain to me._

_Stay here._

_It's okay to cry...let me help you make it right…_

The sound of sneakers on the pavement, sliding and slipping in the rain, was the only thing that Fuji could hear. It was the only thing that registered. It was the only thing he could handle.

Nothing mattered but the blurry outline of the boy ahead of him, obscured by the sheets of frigid water that poured from an angry night sky.

For the first time in his life, Fuji couldn't stop his heart from beating quickly. The electric thrumming that fueled his every step. But it was more than the thrill of the chase.

It was pure need. He couldn't let Ryoma go. He couldn't explain why, couldn't even begin to think about it after everything that had happened this night, but he didn't want to.

He couldn't rationalize it. This was against all his rules. This was against everything he'd thought he wanted everything he'd thought since the day he was born. This was unscripted.

The boy in front of him veered to the left, and Fuji followed with reflexes honed by years of tennis. His mind whirred in a thousands indiscriminate directions, but he ignored it. All that mattered was the boy in front of him and the beating of his heart.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Cold. Mind numbing cold crawled up every inch of skin on Ryoma's body. Water matted his dark hair to his forehead, random strands of hair sticking in his eyes. He didn't care.

He couldn't feel anything but the cold and the water seeping into his very soul like a never ending fountain of unshed tears.

The sudden fingers that wrapped themselves around his frozen skin were the last things his mind was ready for. His knees buckled and he stumbled. The pavement rushed up to greet him, only to stop inches from his face.

The hands that held him pulled him upward and spun him around. They did not let go of him. Piercing crystal blue eyes met his and pinned him to the spot.

Fuji's porcelain skin glowed in the faded light and his honey brown hair clung to his forehead in haphazard strands. A slight flush colored his cheeks and his eyes burned in his skull, burned with the fire of every star in the sky.

And his cherry red lips whispered a single word as those strong arms pulled Ryoma closer, until it felt as if their bodies would meld into one.

"_Stay." _

Pale fingers pressed themselves against Ryoma's jaw line, lifting his face to Fuji's own.

The scent of lemon and wasabi filled his lungs.

"_Stay…" _

And it was then that the tears came. And Ryoma could do nothing to stop them. Pain, confusion and anger spilled from his widened golden orbs and mingled with the rain.

Fuji's eyes filled with something, something Ryoma had no name for. Something so heartbreakingly sad and lovely that it only made the tears come faster.

"Ryoma…"

The fingers tightened their grip. The only thing Ryoma could hear was Fuji's whispering and the loud, frantic beat of his heart.

And then Fuji's soft, warm lips were pressed against his. The fire that erupted inside of his chest filled his entire being, as if someone had stuck the sun where his heart used to be.

The sweet nectar that was Fuji's mouth was stronger and more addictive than any drug. It was intoxicating. Ryoma could do nothing but open his mouth and moan, a needy, animalistic moan that he thought himself incapable of.

His knees went slack and the only thing holding him up was Fuji's hand on his back, rubbing and kneading in agonizingly slow circles. Fuji's moist tongue rolled across Ryoma's lips, tracing the outline in light, delicate strokes. Ryoma threw his arms around Fuji's head, reaching up like a blind man clawing for the sun, trying to force the tensai to apply more pressure. He needed more._ He needed more. _

Fuji used his free hand to pry Ryoma's desperate fingers from him and pinned them against the younger boy's chest, dragging the hand across Ryoma's chest. Ryoma's moan turned into a whimper as Fuji forced him to stroke himself. Sharp teeth nipped at his bottom lip, and the hand on his back slipped lower until it rested on his hip. Ryoma felt as if he might explode with ecstasy.

And then it was over. Fuji's lips were gone from his and a sharp burst of air forced itself down Ryoma's air starved throat. His face was hot and his heart beat was almost painful but all he could feel was the lingering electricity that flowed in his blood.

Fuji's eyes met his, and they were still burning, still burning with the same feral need that Ryoma felt would consume him whole.

When the tensai spoke, it was in a throaty whisper. The hand did not remove itself from Ryoma's hip. It snaked into the waist band of Ryoma's pants and rested there.

"Ryoma…you should go home now. It's getting very late."

But Ryoma couldn't even begin to process leaving, not when the tightness in his pants was ground against Fuji's hip every time he shifted his weight.

"I…," he panted, "I don't want to stop…I don't want you to go…"

Fuji's mouth twisted into a wry smile and he let his fingers trail lower, winding themselves in the band of Ryoma's boxers, teasing, careful not to touch the skin. Ryoma groaned in frustration.

"Fuji…"

The tensai chuckled, a low, dark chuckle that made it very difficult for Ryoma to keep his hands to himself.

"I was over the line to have kissed you in the first place. I won't press my luck for one night. Besides…" the tensai lowered his voice, bringing his mouth close to Ryoma's ear. "If we keep going, I don't think I could stop myself."

Ryoma's breath caught in his throat. The carnal need nearly crushed him under its weight and he ground himself closer automatically. It was as if his body has always known how to do this.

"Don't." He whispered, raising his hands and tangling them in the tensai's soaking wet mane. "No one is telling you to stop."

Fuji raised a delicate eyebrow. "Ryoma, it's late. It's raining. And you're confused. A minute ago you wanted to punch my face in, then you cried into my shirt, and now you want to take this further. If you act on impulse you will regret it."

Ryoma dug his nails into his elder's scalp, frustration and indignation rising.

"I'm not confused. I know what I want. What I've wanted from the very beginning. Fuji. I want you. And I'm not confused about that anymore."

Fuji's smile dropped from his face. His eyes glinted, and his mouth curled downwards. Then he heaved a weary sigh.

"Ryoma. You and me…it's not a good idea. Deep down I know you know that."

Golden eyes narrowed and Ryoma dug his nails deeper. Fuji winced.

"No, Fuji. No more games. No more cryptic messages, no more bullshit. For once in your life give a straight answer. You kissed me. You pulled me away from Tezuka because you were jealous of our relationship. You destroyed everything I have ever cared about. And you will answer my fucking question right _now_."

The tensai's eyes widened and for a split second, it looked as if he might laugh. But then his face grew solemn.

"Very well, Ryoma. But…it is raining and it is late. I promise to answer every question you have. But right now, it is time for you to go home."

Ryoma shut his eyes. All of a sudden he was very, very tired. So much had happened so fast and he had yet to wrap his mind around all of it.

The team was in shambles. Fuji had kissed him…his senpai, his male senpai, had kissed him. So was he gay now? Officially? It was all too much.

"Fine." He mumbled, extracting himself from Fuji's arms and taking a step back. He did not trust himself to stand any closer. "But answer one question now."

The taller boy nodded.

"Tell me what Eiji-senpai meant. Why did you want Tezuka away from me?"

Fuji's face tightened and his eyes seemed to harden. But then the mask broke and the tensai looked every bit as tired as Ryoma felt.

"Tezuka is in love with you, Ryoma. He always has been. I thought that if I allowed you two to remain so close then it would only be a matter of time before you reciprocated his feelings."

Ryoma's mouth fell open. Suddenly, it all seemed to painfully clear. A piece of him snapped and fell into nothing. The look in Tezuka's eyes when he'd chosen Fuji. Now it all made sense.

And it had nothing to do with tennis.

"…So you lied to me?" He whispered, indignation bubbling over. "You manipulated the entire team, destroyed the very fabric of who we are, because you were jealous?"

Fuji nodded, face tight.

"I was worried if I told you before that you'd choose him."

Ryoma gripped the side of his head, headache rising fast.

"Fuji…you're supposed to be a genius. How the fuck could you be so stupid? I never loved Tezuka. It was you, idiot. It was always you…"

And then Fuji's arms were around him again, pulling him tighter, squeezing the air out of him.

"Ryoma…" Fuji mumbled into the top of his hair. "This can't happen, Ryoma. I'm no good for you."

"I don't care." Ryoma growled, winding his finger's in Fuji's soaked shirt. "I've given up everything. And I'm not leaving without you."

Fuji said nothing for a long time. Ryoma didn't know how long they stood there with the rain pounding down on them and the darkness growing ever darker.

Then, finally, he pressed his lips against Ryoma's forehead. The younger boy pulled away, surprised and embarrassed.

"What the fuck?"

Fuji smiled softly, a true, true smile. And it broke Ryoma's heart.

"By the end of all of this…you may want nothing more than to leave without me. But until then…until then, Ryoma, I am yours. And you are mine."

And without another word, the tensai turned and disappeared into the starless night.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_**Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading. Please review. The more reviews I get the faster I want to update. I'm sorry it's short! I didn't beta it because I was in such a hurry to get it out! The others will be longer and I will post them faster. The story should be finished by August or September. Thanks! **_


	11. Reckoning

_**Author's Note: I have to thank all of you for reading this long. It really means a lot to me and I appreciate the support. I am very sorry it has taken so long, I know I promised! I have so many ideas swirling around in my head. My heart is heavy with troubles and I'm trying my hardest to keep them from spilling over into the story. Please enjoy this chapter and I hope it was worth the wait. I will try to be quicker, I swear! Only three more! Thank you. **_

_Chapter Eleven: Reckoning _

_And all three of the wise men say, "I can only fix you if you stay."-Original Quote _

Ryoma was a bad liar. He always had been. Something in his face gave him away, whether it was the slight twitch of his upper lip or the gleam in his eyes. It had never really been relevant, however, because Ryoma rarely felt the need to lie. It contradicted the natural bluntness he so prized.

But right now, with his parents glaring at him and his cousin hovering nervously in the corner, Ryoma wished he knew how to lie as smoothly as the arrogant bastard who'd gotten him into this mess in the first place.

Nanjiroh narrowed his eyes and raked a hand through his scruff of a beard, impatience evident in his bearing.

"Where the hell have you been boy?" he mumbled, and it was then that Ryoma knew why he was so grumpy. It was likely that he'd stayed awake waiting. The young tennis prodigy felt a slight twinge of guilt.

"I was with the team. It ran a little late because we got lost. I'm sorry, father." He turned to his mother, who looked more relieved than angry. "I'm sorry, mother. I should have called but I thought you'd be asleep."

Rinko sighed. "Always call, Ryoma. You had me worried sick. You didn't leave a number to call and I thought you might've gotten hurt."

Nanjiroh snorted. "Don't be so easy on the brat. He's lying as sure as the sky is blue."

Ryoma raised an eyebrow, trying to refrain from smirking. "It's night time, old man. The sky is black."

The "old man" let out an affronted growl, but Rinko cut him off.

"It isn't like Ryoma to stay out late. If he says he got lost, I believe him. Now it's late. We should all be getting to bed. Ryoma, you're off the hook this time. But don't do this again. I don't think my heart can take it."

Ryoma nodded, ignoring the death glare his father was giving him. It was clear Nanjiroh didn't believe his story one bit. Not wanting to press his luck, the first year darted up the stairs before his mother could change her mind.

Safe in the confines of his bedroom, Ryoma was finally able to breath. The truth of what had just happened, where he had really been, was finally able to sink it. He leaned against the door, taking breath after breath, trying to steady his racing heart.

It was all coming back to him now. The thrill. The electricity. The pure, unadulterated carnal need that infused every molecule in his body. He raised a suddenly trembling hand to his lips. He brushed his fingers over his swollen bottom lip, where Fuji had bitten him. A dark flush infused his face and he shook his head, as if to clear it of fog.

_He kissed me. Fuji Syusuke…kissed me. _

Ryoma could remember it all too vividly. Fuji's delicate fingers brushing across his bare skin…goose bumps broke out along his arms and back, and Ryoma couldn't help but let out a low gasp. His skin ached, yearned for the tensai's touch, and he couldn't control it. His body was reacting in ways that delighted and terrified him all at once.

A soft meow broke him out of his fantasy and Ryoma's hands sprang to his sides. Karupin looked up at him with her soft blue eyes. Her tail was standing straight up and she took a step closer, whispers twitching. Her message was clear.

Ryoma smiled wryly. "I'm sorry I'm late. Did you wait up for me?"

The cat remained silent, nipping gently at his toes. Ryoma's mouth stretched into a grin.

"Yes, Karupin, I was good. I didn't do anything too scandalous."

The creature looked up at him then with wide eyes, as if to say, _"What do you mean by__** too**__ scandalous?" _

Ryoma scooped up his small friend and held her close, pressing his face into her fur. A forgotten joy welled inside of him, and for that one moment, there was no confusion. For that one moment, as fleeting as it may be.

"Let's go to sleep, Karu. Tomorrow will come soon enough…"

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

When Eiji woke, he was alone. The dark, unfamiliar shapes of Fuji's guest room loomed around him, and he could barely make out a sliver of moonlight through the curtains. A slow, steady throbbing pulsated through his temples, and he let out a low groan. Fragmented memories of previous events flooded back to him, and the resulting nausea sent him stumbling to the bathroom.

The hallway was completely dark, and he bumped into several things along the way. He flicked the bathroom light on for an instant and flicked it off again almost as quickly. Groaning softly, Eiji crawled on all fours to the side of the bathtub, resting his head against the cool porcelain.

_I'm such an idiot._

A soft clucking sound from behind him seemed to confirm his silent sentiment.

"Eiji. You really shouldn't drink like that. You know you can't handle your liquor."

A gentle hiss slipped through the red head's teeth. "Oh, fuck you, Fuji. This is all your fault anyway."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Eiji realized that he'd made a mistake. How could he have missed it? Fuji's aura was…off. The acrobat turned himself so that he was facing his friend, supporting his weight against the tub.

"Fuji, I didn't mean that-,"

"No." The tensai's liquid blue eyes were oddly blank. Not cold, just…empty. "You're right. All of this blood is on my hands. I understand if you can't bring yourself to forgive me."

Eiji blinked once. "What…what's come over you? I was just kidding-wait a minute. Why the hell are you dripping?"

The honey haired boy raised a delicate eyebrow and surveyed himself with a cursory glance. "Hm." He mumbled. "So I am."

"What happened, Fuji?" Eiji forced himself to a standing position, ignoring the instant vertigo.

The shorter boy shut his eyes and sighed. "To be honest with you, Eiji, I have not the slightest clue." Fuji extended a pale, damp hand, tell tale smirk absent from his face.

"Come on, Eiji. I'll explain in the morning."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_And even though I cry like crazy_

_Even though it hurts so bad_

_I'm thankful for the time God gave me…_

_Even if it was never real at all._

Momoshiro was rarely serious. To be honest, he'd never seen the need for it. Life was too short. Laughter was the best medicine, blah blah all that jazz.

But mostly, Momoshiro just hated to see people cry. It wasn't just because he was a caring soul, either. The truth was, Momoshiro was a terrible crybaby once he got started. So it was best not to get started. Wallowing in self pity wasn't something that the fiery dunk smash specialist was suited for.

And so now, at three in the morning on a Sunday, just two days after he'd willingly given up the love of his life, Momoshiro was sitting on his couch and watching an R rated movie. A funny one, involving lots of nudity and drunken escapades. And the purple eyed boy was laughing his ass off, stuffing his face full of as many cheese curls as he could manage without choking to death. Three empty soda cans littered the living room floor. His parents slept like him- dead until morning. So he was free to be as racy as he wanted, shouting cat calls at every pair of breasts that graced the screen.

It was heaven. Perfect. This is what Momoshiro did, what he'd always done, and what he'd always do. Nothing had changed, nothing waited for him on Monday morning. He was not faced with a broken team, a broken dream, and a breaking, disillusioned heart. Because things like that were far too serious.

And Momo just didn't do serious.

Crying wasn't an option. And no one had to tell Momo that if he started crying now, if he even for one second pictured Ryoma's easy smirk and strangely gentle golden eyes in his head, then he'd never be able to stop.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ryuuzaki generally minded her own business and let the Seigaku tennis team handle itself. Her job was to drive the prodigies to matches, offer moral support, and keep the hot headed ones from pounding the opposing teams face's into the asphalt.

And to keep her psychotic granddaughter from kidnapping Ryoma and locking him a closet.

The team, she'd come to realize, didn't really need much else from her. She'd gotten very lucky this year. Tezuka was a firm leader and the team had a lot of respect for him. Ryoma had breathed new life into the team, lit a fire under their asses so to speak, and Momoshiro and Kaidoh helped carry that intensity. Inui was smart enough to manage the bedlam that was sure to ensue from time to time, and Taka's gentle nature soothed cuts before they had a chance to fester into wounds. Eiji's humor and simple, naïve wisdom kept a smile on everyone's face and Fuji, though he didn't say much, managed to pull of a curious sort of ambiguity that balanced out everyone's individual personality.

Yes, she thought, as she cast her gaze around her office, taking in her regulars faces, she'd been very lucky. None of them were looking at her. They were all looking in different directions- the ceiling, the floor, out the window- anywhere but at each other.

That, more than anything, brought a deep sadness to her heart.

"You all," she began, "Have been acting very strangely lately. Several of you attend practice rarely, if at all, and the doubles pairings have been all but completely obliterated. Nationals are in two weeks and we have worked incredibly hard to get here. I've heard from your teachers that all of you, with the exception of Fuji and Inui, have let your grades slip, if only by a minute fraction. Half of you can't even bear to look at the other half without glaring and or flinching. The disdain between you is palpable."

"Where's Momoshiro?" she asked, fearing the worst.

"Sick." Flat lined Ryoma. "He didn't come to school today. He called this morning."

She paused.

"Will someone please tell me…what the_ hell_ is going on here?"

As expected, they all flinched. The old woman narrowed her eyes. "That was not a rhetorical question."

The team leader stepped forward and did his best to meet her gaze, but after a moment he averted his eyes. "I assure you, sensei, that there is nothing to worry about. We were experiencing some personal difficulties but-,"

"But nothing," snapped Eiji from the far left corner. Fuji, who stood on his right, shot his teammate a warning glance. Ryoma stood between the two, but his gaze was fixed far, far, away. "Don't lie to her, Tezuka."

Ryuuzaki frowned. It was rare to hear Eiji sound so cross.

"Tezuka isn't denying we have problems." Countered Oishi from the far right corner. "He is simply assuring sensei that we can work through them like mature human beings and not rip each other's heads off like a pack of wild boars."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Oishi." The red head sneered, "I wasn't aware that you'd stopped sniping. When did this happen?"

"Stop it, Eiji." Tezuka turned to face the acrobat, fluorescent lighting glinting off his glasses. "Your immaturity is not welcome here."

"Neither is yours, Tezuka." Fuji's voice was nary more than a whisper, but all eyes turned to him immediately.

The coach could only look on in stunned horror.

"What did you say to me, Syusuke?" hissed Tezuka, closing the distance between them in an instant. Ryoma tensed immediately, golden eyes snapping to the confrontation directly next to him. His small hands curled into tight fists and he looked ready to intervene if necessary.

"Stop it!" Ryuuzaki finally found her voice and it was laced with anger and desperation. "Stop it, both of you!"

Fuji raised his hands in surrender, eyes crinkled into the usual half moons. But there was no smile on his face. Something about that seemed…so horribly wrong.

"You heard her, Tezuka. Now is not the time for childish grudges."

"Grudges? That's just like you. So intoxicated by your own ego that you think everyone is jealous of you."

Fuji's crystal orbs opened. They were filled with a deep sadness.

"Tezuka, I don't want to fight you," he whispered. "Let this go. For the sake of our team. You can despise me, you have every right to hate me, but please…stop this. Don't further this useless destruction."

The taller boy let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, so now you want to be the bigger man? It's a bit late for that, don't you think? You've gotten what you wanted."

A stir of moment to her right caught Ryuuzaki's attention. It was the door opening and closing, the echo of the dull thud resounding in her ears. It took her only a moment to register the fact that Kawamura was no longer in the room.

"Stop it!" she screamed, full fury ignited. "Kunimitsu, get away from him! Now!"

The sheer force of her shout seemed to snap the team captain out of a trance. He sprang back as if someone had burned him. Ryoma's fists uncurled and he pulled down his cap, further shielding his eyes.

"I can not believe…" The coach's voice quivered with indignation. "The shameless display of immaturity I just witnessed. Tezuka, you of all people! And you, Fuji…that's it. That's it! It's obvious my words mean nothing to you! But you listen to me, you little brats! Nationals are in two weeks and we…all of us….have worked our asses off all damn year! And if you think that I'm going to let a few lovers' quarrels ruin all of that, you've got another damn thing coming!"

Snatching her keys from the desk, the tennis expert crossed to the door and threw it open. Then she turned to face her team, all of whom were looking at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"You will stay in this room until I say you can leave. I will call all of your parents, so don't even try to use that. You can stay here all night if it comes to that. This team, the one I see before me now, is not going to Nationals. So I suggest you pull your heads out of your asses. Goodnight."

And with that, she slammed the door shut.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"This is not going to end well," muttered Ryoma, running a hand through his hair. "Tezuka won't listen to anything we have to say, and as long as he's intent on dividing us, we will remain divided. There's no point in this." They'd been sitting in silence for nearly half an hour now. Eiji had fallen into a sort of restless sleep; head nestled under Fuji's shoulder. It surprised and frightened Ryoma how jealous that simple action made him.

Fuji nodded, motioning for Ryoma to come closer. The younger boy scooted over until their hips were touching. The tensai was staring out into the distance, obviously in deep thought.

"I'm sorry, Ryoma," he whispered. "This is all my fault. I've ruined your prospects."

Ryoma raised an eyebrow. "If you think that a measly team squabble is going to ruin my prospects, you obviously don't know me very well."

Fuji turned to look at him, eyes fluttering open. They were glittering with mild curiosity.

"You seem…much improved from the other day. Calmer…more together. Almost as if you've come to terms with it all."

Ryoma shrugged, breathing in and out as slowly as possible. "It isn't easy. But I had to. In the end, I had two options. Pull it together or fall apart. What happened on Friday…" a light blush rose to his cheeks, "It confused me. But in a good way. It solidified what I truly wanted. Now that I know that, I feel…better."

The soft pressure of a hand on his knee nearly sent the younger boy reeling.

"Um…I…ah…Fuji…" he squeaked, blush darkening.

Deep, liquid blue eyes meeting his stopped his protest. His heart slammed against his ribcage, and the slow breathing he'd worked so carefully to maintain ceased to matter.

Fuji's voice was nary more than a whisper. "You know what you want? You're sure?"

Ryoma nodded shakily, the older boy's gaze searing into his flesh. A thin sheen of sweat began to form on his palms.

"Alright then."

And then Fuji's lips were pressed against his. The kiss was so gentle that it could have been nothing more than a whisper of wind. A strange, foreign sweetness spilled over and filled Ryoma, replacing his blood with air and lemon drops, strength and vulnerability, peace and light.

It nearly brought tears to his eyes.

And then, all of a sudden, it was gone. Too suddenly. Ryoma tried to focus his eyes, tried to clear away the blinding white that had replaced his vision.

He heard a shout that seemed to come from miles away, and then another. The peace he'd attained shattered within seconds of its coming.

"_You son of a bitch!" _

"_Stop it!" _

"_Let go of him!" _

_  
"What the fuck are you doing?" _

"_STOP IT!" _

The world came rushing at him. Inui was holding Eiji by the shoulders, yanking him backwards. The red head had a look of death on his face and his mouth was open in a grotesque snarl. There was shouting, too much shouting, and Ryoma couldn't make out the indistinct sounds.

Oishi was standing stock still, olive eyes staring in shocked horror. Kaidoh looked as if he were close to being sick all over the floor.

_Fuji. _

Ryoma scrambled to his feet in an instant, whirling around, desperate to find the being who occupied every thought, every moment of his very existence.

The tensai's head was lolled back, honey brown hair askew. His bangs had fallen back, fully exposing his porcelain forehead. His eyes were closed.

Tezuka held him up by the collar, pressed against the sole window. Ryoma heard more than saw the sickening sound of flesh grating against flesh. Fuji's head snapped to the side like a limp rag doll.

_No. No, no, no! _

"Tezuka! No! Stop it!" he screamed, too horrified to be shocked by the savage desperation in his voice.

The captain ignored him, or rather, didn't hear him at all. The fist rose again.

His feet moved then, with all the speed years of tennis had afforded him. There was no time to think. His arms wrapped around Tezuka's waist and he stayed there, breath caught in his throat.

"Please…" he whispered. "Buchou, please don't hurt him. Please don't hurt him…"

"Let go of me, Ryoma." Tezuka sounded far away, as if he could barely hear the boy latched onto him. "Get out of the way."

"No." he ground out, voice shaking. His legs wavered but he held on, struggling to ignore the surprising warmth radiating from his team leader's skin. The kind of warmth that made him want to let go and stand by. The kind of warmth that reminded him how much Tezuka had meant to him…the way it could have been had he never given into his feelings. The burning guilt from the other night returned full force.

But he didn't let go. Something inside of him wouldn't let him.

"Hit me instead. I don't care what you do; I know how much you hate me. And I know how much you must be hurting…dear God, I know…I know what it feels like. The ripping sensation that feels like it will tear you to pieces if you don't hurt someone, if you don't let the world know exactly what it feels like. I can't ask you to stop feeling that away. All I ask is that you hurt me instead. Let Fuji go…Tezuka…please…" he finished weakly, burying his head under his leader's shoulder. "Kunimistu…please…"

There was a soft thud from in front of him. Ryoma withdrew his head just in time to see Fuji slump the ground, motionless. Tezuka stepped back sharply, throwing off Ryoma's balance. He stumbled, feet colliding with one another as gravity bore him backwards. Strong arms caught him from behind and pressed him against a slender chest.

A familiar cotton candy flavored scent told him it was Kikimaru.

The acrobat's grip on him hardened. "Don't you dare, Tezuka." He growled, a strange, mad sort of fury deepening his voice. "I will see you dead."

The captain wasn't looking at the boy threatening him. His gaze was locked on Ryoma, hazel eyes filled with a startling sadness.

It ran deep, so very deep, until anguish was the only thing that could come close to describing it anymore.

"Ryoma…" he whispered with such softness that Ryoma felt his heart would break in his chest. "Do you really hate me so much? Am I really not enough? Has all of it…has all of it never been enough?"

"Buchou…no…" he choked, fighting back the sudden tears that sprung up inside of him. "I don't hate you. It doesn't have to be this way. Just because we can't…just because I don't…"

Tezuka's face contorted then, a twisted mask of pain and revelation turning his handsome face into something nearly unrecognizable.

"He told you?"

Ice water came crashing down on Ryoma, igniting his skin with cold flame.

"Tezuka…it doesn't mean that we can't…that I don't…"

The green haired boy placed his hands to his head and turned away, shoulders slumped in defeat. The position seemed so unnatural…it frightened Ryoma horribly.

_It can't be. It can't end like this. After all of it, all of the shit…he can't just walk away! I don't…I don't want to lose him! Not like this! _

"Buchou! Please don't…don't_…" _

"Don't what, Ryoma?" the captain whispered, still facing the opposite direction. "What do you want from me? You want me to ignore what's going on? You want me to pretend like it's not happening?" the whisper pulsated with intensity. "You want me to be the strong, stoic leader everyone has come to respect? Bury my feelings deep inside so that they can eat their way out and destroy me? You want me to make things go back to normal? Well, I can't. It's over."

"Enough of this! Enough already!"

Ryoma whirled his head around just as Eiji let go of him and turned to face the source of the outburst.

Kaidoh was kneeling beneath the window still, cradling Fuji's still from. Eiji let out a low hiss.

"Get away from him."

"No! I can't stand to see this go on any longer!" the viper's growl lacked all of its usual venom. "I won't let you do this! All of you stop being so fucking selfish!"

Inui cleared his throat. "I agree with Kaidoh. All of us have worked so hard to make this team work. And I can't just sit by and watch the four of you throw it away. Your personal problems are just that-personal. This team is falling apart. Our leader is acting out of a malicious desire for retribution, and by doing so, is creating an unnecessary divide between us all. Our strongest doubles team has let childish vendettas ruin a life long friendship. It doesn't make sense. None of it makes a bit of sense."

Ryoma felt the truth of Inui's words weigh on him. The pure stupidity of the situation hit him in the face like a boulder.

"Inui is right. Look at us…look at what we've become."

Oishi's olive eyes welled with tears. "Oh my god. I can't believe this. I can't believe any of this."

Emotions flickered across Eiji's face like a moving screen. Anger, denial, sadness, realization. The red head sunk to sitting position, burying his head between his knees. "This is my fault. My stupid fight with Oishi started this."

"It's all of our faults. We should never have taken sides." Kaidoh conceded, releasing Fuji and laying him down gently. "Fuji is alright. Just knocked out."

"I am sorry." Mumbled Tezuka, voice breaking. He turned around, glasses in hand. He raised his head and Ryoma's heart splintered and broke, before mending in one miraculous instant.

Tears streamed down his face, two pools of crystalline heartbreak. "I am so sorry for what I have done."

Eiji raised his head and met Tezuka's gaze. His face was hard and blank as a stone. Then it broke, it broke and tears were streaming down his face as well.

"Mo, buchou. Don't go crying now. You're gonna make us all look like a bunch of girls."

Kaidoh turned his face away, face reddening. "Speak for yourself. I ain't crying. I have allergies."

"I owe all of you an apology. I care so deeply for all of you and I lost sight of that." Oishi's voice was shaking, but there was certainty beneath the tears in his eyes. "I want to become a team again. I want to forget all of this. If Fuji and Ryoma want to be together it's their business. And there's something else…" Oishi took in a deep breath and then spit the words out, as if afraid he'd lose is courage if he waited another second.

"I love Kikimaru Eiji. I love him more than life, more than right and wrong, more than society's useless judgments. I love him more than I love myself. And if anyone has a problem with that I'm sorry. But it isn't going to change."

His eyes searched for Eiji's and found them. The tears spilled over, falling freely and quickly, with no move made by either boy to stop them.

"I don't want it…to change."

Oishi held out a tentative hand. Ryoma was painfully reminded of the scene of the rooftop and his breath caught in his throat.

"I am sorry to interrupt." Ryuuzaki's voice pierced the delicate glass sphere that had encased them. She stood in the open doorway, a knowing smile on her face. "But your parents want you back before morning."

Oishi seemed to snap out of a trance. His hand snapped to his side. Ryoma nudged his other senpai into standing position. Tezuka looked over at him, hazel eyes clear and free of the sadness that had clouded them so.

Then the captain smiled a soft, warm smile that made Ryoma want nothing more than to stay with him forever.

_I do love you, buchou…I think I always will. _

A soft hand curled into his and Ryoma did not need to look to know that Fuji had gotten up. Tezuka's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, before drifting to Fuji. Clear, limitless cerulean eyes stared back at him, free of hate, free of anger.

A mutual understanding passed between them, an understanding that Ryoma knew he would never be able to understand.

And then Fuji's pink lips curled into one of those rare, genuine smiles that reminded Ryoma just why and how he loved him.

"That was a nice nap." He said, running a hand through his silken locks to smooth the damage. "I very much enjoyed it."

Ryoma's left eye twitched. "You….what?"

The coach cleared her throat. "Details can be sorted out later boys. Now it's time for you to go home."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Eleven twelve: The breath is stolen from Ryoma's lungs with a kiss. A kiss infused with enough passion to leave him standing outside of his doorstep wobbling for minutes after its end._

_Eleven thirty five: Momoshiro receives a call. The words "It's really over, Momo-senpai," makes him laugh, laugh freely. And as soon as he is done laughing, he begins to cry. _

_Twelve, midnight: Fuji climbs through Eiji's open window and is greeted with a pillow to the face. Not a word passes between the two and the only sound is the steady whisper of peaceful sleep. _

_Twelve ten: Oishi lies awake watching the memories in his head. And waiting for an answer he truly doesn't want to hear. _

_Twelve eleven: Tears soak into freshly washed sheets. Seigaku's captain decides to forgo sleep tonight and simply wait for morning._

__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note: I hope you liked it. Please forgive the grammar and or spelling mistakes; I tried to get it out as soon as I could because I made you all wait so long. Please review!!!! Thanks! **


	12. Mockingbird

**Author's Note: There will be fifteen chapters in this story, guys, and the last one will be an epilogue. I can't thank you enough for reading and I'd like reviews, if you have a moment to spare. All of you subscribers…I see you….thank you as well. After completion of this story I will be embarking on a new Prince of Tennis fic and I truly hope you will read it. Some M content in this one…**

_Chapter Twelve: Mockingbird _

"_But remember, it's a sin to kill a mockingbird." – Atticus Finch _

The dawn came swiftly. Eiji wasn't overly familiar with the dawn, as his code of morals strictly forbade rising at such an ungodly hour, but Fuji had woken him.

_Rather unceremoniously too. Stupid bastard. Was the cold water really necessary?_

When Eiji voiced the last part out loud, he received nothing in response but a wry smile.

"I hate you, Fuji." Flat lined the red head, climbing out of his messy, unmade bed. "I swear to god I do."

"Mh-hm." Mumbled the tensai, stifling a chuckle and extending a hand. Eiji took it grudgingly, taking care to stick out his tongue. Fuji stood by the open window, school uniform already on and not a hair out of place. His fathomless blue eyes were open ever so slightly and the pale moonlight bathed him in an ethereal glow.

Eiji sighed. There was no helping it. He was too lovely, too beyond words. He ensnared everyone he touched and Eiji was no exception.

"Why did you wake me, asshole?"

"No reason in particular," the prodigy responded noncommittally, "I just felt like being with you."

"You couldn't have waited until the sun was up to 'be with me'?" growled Eiji, running a hand through his wild red mane. "And you couldn't have found a nicer way of waking me up?"

Fuji shrugged, smile widening. "I tried waking you before. I whispered in your ear, I shook you, I even violated you but you never-,"

"Shut up, Fuji."

A soft chuckle slipped past rosy lips. "I'm sorry, Eiji. Do you forgive me?"

"Mo…you're really mean to me, Fujiko. I don't know if I should." quipped the acrobat, winding himself into Fuji's arms. The tensai pulled him closer and Eiji let the back of his head rest of the shorter boy's chest.

Eiji shivered as a feather soft kiss was placed against his jawbone.

"Please, my darling Eiji? I think I'd die without you."

"You aren't helping your case."

Fuji's muffled laughter rippled against Eiji's neck, making his knees buckle ever so slightly.

And the two of them stayed like that, without moving, two boys content with the sound of each other's breathing and the steady thrum of each other's heart beat until the sun peaked over the clouds.

They did not discuss the impending strife and unavoidable confrontation that both of them were sure to face in the future. There was no need too. It hung over them like an unshakable fog waiting to break over them.

Eiji pressed himself deeper into Fuji's chest.

_Hold on. No matter what, as long as Fuji is with you…just hold on. _

__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __

_Through the wind_

_And the rain_

_He stands hard as a stone_

_In a world that he can't rise above_

Oishi hated sunsets. Oishi hated very few things, but sunsets and his father were definitely at the top of his list. His father was a fairly simple explanation- the man was racist, sexist, and homophobic. Oishi Sr. hid behind his Bible and his bottle, smacking around the misses and the little golden boy if he dared so much as make a squeak in protest.

Of course, Oishi was too old for the senseless beatings now- and he'd grown strong and muscular from tennis. Oishi doubted if his father would risk a fight with him anyway. As soon as he'd been big enough, Oishi had sworn to protect his mother, who as far as he could tell, was the closest thing God had given him to an angel.

But there was another reason Oishi hated his father.

Every day, every moment of his life, that man was always looking at him- with red, watery eyes hidden behind wire rimmed glasses that offered the guise of respectability. And then he'd say it, the cursed word, quickly and viciously, as if to desperate to get the word off his tongue.

"_Faggot." _

It chilled Oishi to the bone. His father always said it with such complete revulsion…it was enough to make anyone think that to be one of the damned was…was just about the most evil thing anyone could do. As a child, even when he was too young to understand the word's meaning, it would still reduce him to tears.

"_I'm not!" he'd scream, running into his mother's arms. "Tell him I'm not Mama! Tell him I'm not!" _

"_You just love running around with that little boyfriend of yours. I see the way you look at him." _

"_No! Mama, tell him it isn't true! Tell him! Mama please!" _

Oishi shook his head. No, no. There was no time for remembering now. He stared hard at his computer screen, willing his term paper to write itself. Alas, the screen remained blank. The setting sun cast a reddish glow over everything and the base of the Golden Pair shot up and crossed the room in no time flat. He yanked at the pale blue curtains impatiently and the room went dark. He breathed a sigh of relief.

If there was anything he hated more than his father, it was sunsets.

Never mind what the rest of the world thought- that sunsets were beautiful and romantic, symbolic of peace and light or some shit.

Oishi knew the truth.

With every setting sun, something that had once been was lost. Be it a precious moment or a human life, something was always sacrificed to pay the piper. And Oishi just knew that one day he'd wake up and it would all be gone…everything would just vanish because of that goddamn sunset.

The bright blue light of the computer screen was all that remained to cast shadows in the room. An unmade bed, a dresser littered with photos, a desk covered in unopened books…that was what the light revealed.

Oishi's olive green eyes flitted across the room, taking in it. So this is what he had to show for fifteen years of life. A few trophies, some badly hidden Playboy magazines planted in a futile attempt to deny his sexuality.

But mostly it was the pictures. And mostly, it was the pictures of Eiji. Eiji sleeping, Eiji eating, Eiji smiling that carefree bright eyed smile that made Oishi wish to God that he were a woman, so that the love he felt wouldn't be so very wrong. Eiji laughing and flashing a peace sign at the camera, a lanky arm slung around Oishi's shoulder.

And then there was Oishi's favorite. The photograph was taken right after the two of them had lost a match. Eiji's dark eyes were downcast and sad, but a gentle smile played across the red head's mouth. His hands were clasped in front of his heart, almost as if he were in prayer.

Aside from the picture, Oishi had never again seen that look on Eiji's face. He didn't know if he wanted to.

The screen flickered and Oishi was broken out of his reverie. That term paper wasn't going to write itself. He plopped down in his chair, fighting the urge to switch the screen off and sink into bed. It had been a long, hellish Tuesday. Practice had been…interesting, to say the least.

Everyone was on speaking terms again. Everyone laughed and joked, cursed and mocked, just as they always had. It was as if the past few months had never existed. The teams were back in place and Eiji was his partner again. The red head winked and joked and smiled. He didn't touch him…Eiji never once made a move to so much as pat Oishi on the back. And so Oishi knew better. Everything was not alright in paradise.

He was not blind. He saw the brief hesitation in everyone's movements; saw the quick, irritated glances that Tezuka shot Fuji every time the tensai leaned down to whisper something in Ryoma's ear. He could hear Momoshiro's voice waver as he playfully told the two of them to get a room. He saw all of this. And he knew that however mended things may be, the cracks would always show through.

And Eiji still had not answered his question. Oishi had not pushed the matter, he had not even mentioned it, but it weighed on his heart.

The unanswered _"I love you…"_…so this is what it felt like. Oishi grimaced, pressing his face into the keyboard. Tears pricked at the back of his eyelids, but he stopped them. He'd done enough crying these past few weeks to last a lifetime. Maybe two.

Eiji's face popped into his mind, and he remembered their forbidden tryst in the locker room with startling clarity. He remembered what Eiji's sweet breath had felt like against his neck, what those lithe fingers had ignited in his as they played against his tanned chest…a soft gasp slipped between Oishi's suddenly clenched teeth.

The blood rushed southwards before he had a chance to protest.

Just the memory of Eiji's head lowering downward, able hands dragging down the zipper, soft, warm mouth pressing…

"Ah…God…" hissed Oishi, unable to stifle the lust that rushed through him. The inseam on his pants became insufferably tight. The mere thought of Eiji's pink little tongue dancing across his most sensitive spots…was maddening. Oishi knew it was wrong, to be driven to such passion by another boy. By his best friend. He knew that if he let his hands reach for his member and caress it as he wanted to; imagining Eiji's hands there instead of his, then his father would have been right about him.

He knew this.

But, like so many times before, he did not stop. He couldn't.

And so he let his head roll back and his tongue loll out of his mouth. He let his hands trace along his inner thigh, slowly at first, and then he seized his manhood, pumping with his fist. His breath came in ragged gasps. He pumped harder, faster, more desperately. His careful rhythm soon became erratic with need.

He could not stop the groans that slipped between his clenched teeth.

"God, ah…yes…oh, God, oh…ah, ah…oh, _God…_"

His back arched and he had to keep himself from screaming to the top of his lungs. His climax was approaching, he could feel it. The chair legs skidded as he slipped from his chair, still pumping furiously, heart ready to fly out of his chest.

"Eiji…" he groaned, and that was it, the utterance of the name was all it took.

He exploded, collapsing in a heap on his floor, hand sticky and wet, face flushed beyond recognition.

"Eiji…" he whispered, coming down from his bliss. He ran a still wet hand across his lips. "My Eiji…say yes…please…say yes…"

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Fuji, you have exactly five seconds to give me back my phone." Growled Ryoma, wiping the sweat off his brow with his left hand. Practice had been brutal, they all had to make up for lost time, and Ryoma was more than a little rusty. His body was less than thrilled at being put back to work.

"Not a chance." Hummed the tensai gleefully, placid smile in place. The older boy was barely sweating. "I told you I've got to make a call."

"Use your own damn phone!" snapped Ryoma, making a grab for it, but failing miserably. Fuji's smile widened.

"My, my, Ryo-chan. No need to get your panties in a twist. I'll only be a moment."

Irritation pricked at Ryoma like the sun on his already over heated skin. "Don't call me that!"

Ever since Monday evening, Fuji had given up all pretenses. No one had said anything. There had been no passionate declaration of love from either of them. It was simply an unspoken truth. Lunches now were spent between the three of them- Eiji, Ryoma, and Fuji. They would sit always beneath the big oak tree in the field, where no one could see or hear them. Sometimes Momoshiro would join them.

Every day, Fuji walked Ryoma home. Every day, Fuji kissed Ryoma dizzy and left him standing on his doorstep, head spinning and heart thudding out of his chest.

Nothing needed to be said.

Ryoma was happy. His fears and doubts were still there, yes, but they lay dormant inside of him. And despite the fact that he'd never asked the questions he'd wanted to before, it didn't seem to matter now. It was okay like this.

Well, at this particular moment, it was just downright annoying.

"I mean it Fuji! I've got to get home; I don't have time for this!"

"That's precisely why I'm calling your parents. I can't let you go just yet." Fuji's slim eyebrows were practically twitching with amusement.

Ryoma's flush extended from his face to his neck. "If you call my house I will murder you. I'm serious, asshole."

Fuji clucked his tongue, taking an effortless step backwards, out of punching range. They were standing in front of the school gates and their little tiff was starting to draw attention.

"I'll just be a moment." Repeated Fuji, punching a button on Ryoma's new, slim black cell phone. Ryoma turned scarlet. He only had two people on speed dial- his parents and Fuji. That meant….

"Hello, Mrs. Echizen? This is Syusuke Fuji. From Ryoma-kun's school, yes."

"FUJI!" cried Ryoma, the full horror of the situation slowly dawning on him. Fuji was on the phone with his mother. Nothing good could possibly come of this.

"I'm sorry to be so presumptuous, but Ryoma wanted me to ask you. I understand it's a school night but I was wondering if he could sleep over at my house this evening. It's a team thing you see…"

Ryoma stumbled forward blindly, anger blotting out all other emotions. "It's Wednesday night, asshole." He hissed, making another swipe for the phone. Fuji held Ryoma back with his free hand, clearly struggling to hold back his laughter.

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Echizen. My parents would be more than happy to have him. It's no trouble, no, none at all. It's my pleasure in fact. Of course, Mrs. Echizen. Thanks again. Good evening to you too."

With a quick snap, Fuji flipped the phone shut. His brilliant smile indicated his triumph.

Ryoma's golden eyes narrowed to slits. "What did you do?"

"Nothing." Quipped the tensai innocently. "I simply rectified a mistake. You see," his clear voice dropped to a whisper as his free hand wound around Ryoma's waist, pulling him closer. Ryoma felt the breath leave him a quick gasp. The familiar smell of sweet lemon filled his nostrils. "There's no way in the world you should ever be allowed to leave my sight. Especially not when there is such an obvious need for a joint shower."

Ryoma's flush deepened. "Fuji…" he choked out. "There are people watching." He instantly forgot his anger.

Fuji's blue eyes drifted open and the feeble protest died on his tongue.

"So?" he whispered, slipping Ryoma's cell phone into its rightful owner's back pocket. Ryoma shivered.

"So…we can't. I don't want them to see."

"Are you afraid?" Fuji's tone had turned teasing and his warm breath tickled Ryoma's ear.

"No," snapped Ryoma, pulling away harshly. He tried not to be betray just how much it hurt him to deprive himself of skin on skin contact. "I'm not afraid. But I see I will have to be wise enough for both of us."

Fuji's eyes gleamed mischievously. "You are going to pay for that comment when we get home."

"Home?" breathed Ryoma, again forgetting his anger, forgetting everything but how soft Fuji's lips looked under the waning light.

"Yes," affirmed the tensai. His blue eyes were gentle. "Home."

Ryoma hesitated. "But…what about Eiji? We should wait for him."

Fuji chuckled softly. "Fret not, Ryoma dear. Eiji will be along shortly. He has some business to attend to first."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Here I stand alone_

_With this weight upon my heart_

_And it will not go away_

_In my head I keep on looking back_

_Right back to the start_

_Wondering what it was that made you change_

He waited. Patiently, at first, but then the anxiety came. Eiji pulled out his cell phone and checked the time. Six thirty. Oishi had promised to come exactly at six thirty. And, if Eiji knew Oishi, and he did, he knew that Oishi was never late.

So that left one option. He'd decided not to come. Eiji clenched his fist, hard, until the blood drained from it and his skin turned bone white.

"He said he'd come." He assured himself, bouncing on his heels. The old shed behind him cast a great shadow over his slight frame.

It was an ironic place to meet, this old abandoned shed overlooking the city. It was where they'd had their first real conversation. It was where the friendship had started. And now, it was here that it would either change or be thrown away completely. Either way, everything would be different.

Either way, there was no going back.

"Eiji?" Oishi's voice was hesitant. "Is that you?"

The red head ignored his thudding heart and forced himself to grin. He stepped out of the shadows, trying desperately to look as if he were at ease.

"The one and only. I was starting to think you'd bailed."

Oishi offered a shaky, wry smile in response. "As if I could ever stand you up."

Eiji very tactfully chose not to comment on that.

"So…" he drawled, running a hand through his tangled, sweat damp locks. "It's pretty out, isn't it?"

Oishi frowned slightly, olive eyes expressing clear confusion. "I suppose," he said carefully, closing the distance between them in three deft steps. Eiji had to resist the urge to take a step back.

"It's a repeat, I know." continued Eiji, struggling to find words- any words at all- for the swirling mass of pandemonium inside of him. "We always come to this same spot. We've been doing it for years. But I think the sunset's just as pretty as the first time we ever saw it."

Oishi's frown deepened. "Eiji…I…"

"It's funny, isn't it?" babbled Eiji, grabbing the ledge of the roof and hauling himself up. He landed with a soft thud. "How some things never change?"

Oishi looked up at him with wide, uncomprehending doe eyes. After a moment of silence, the taller boy swung himself up in one fluid motion. There they say, side by side, as they had sat so many times before.

The city in all its glory glistened below them, the tops of the buildings sparkling like diamonds underneath the orange light.

It really was lovely.

Oishi sighed, softly, just loud enough for Eiji to hear.

"What is it?" the acrobat's voice had dropped to a whisper.

"I'm just wishing." responded Oishi, drawing his knees to his chest. He rested his head on them, and allowed his long, dark eyelashes to flutter softly.

"Wishing for what?" Eiji turned his body so that he was facing his best friend, fully. His heart seemed to rise out of his chest. There was nothing left, just a gaping emptiness that made the world seem all the brighter.

Oishi looked at him, straight in the eye, olive eyes filled with a warmth so tender it nearly reduced Eiji to tears.

"Wishing I'd never hurt you." He said, in a ghost of a whisper. "Wising I'd never said all of those awful things to you. Wishing I hadn't been stupid enough to throw it all away. Wishing I'd never even bothered to pretend that I haven't loved you since the day I first saw you."

Eiji's voice left him. He could only stare.

Oishi swallowed, hard, and then placed a tentative hand on Eiji's knee. "I love you. I know after what I've done, I have no right to say that. But you must believe me. I think of you every waking moment. I dream of you at night. And when I close my eyes, all I see is your face. You torment me, Eiji. You are my light. You are my addiction. You are…my all."

_Oh my God…Oh, my sweet, sweet Jesus…this is impossible. Oishi can't…Oishi can't really…love me…not the way I love him…not the way I have always loved him…_

Oishi fell silent and turned his face away. His cheeks were flushed a heinous shade of red, and he looked on the verge of tears. It was clear that Oishi had spent many days and nights wrestling with that confession.

"I…" croaked Eiji, shaking from head to toe. "You really…you really love me?"

Oishi's answer was to move, so quickly that even Eiji's eyes could barely follow, and pin the red head beneath him. Eiji could feel Oishi's rippled washboard chest through his sweat soaked shirt.

Dark, wide eyes met pleading green.

"Yes." He whispered. "I do. Say yes, Eiji. Say yes and I swear to you, I will give you the world. I'll give you everything."

Eiji felt his heart return to him then, surprisingly calm. Clear even. In that one moment, the emotions inside of him stilled. He knew now what he had to do.

It had been there all along.

"Oishi," he whispered. "Please let me sit up. Just for a moment. There's something I need to say."

Oishi sat up at once, eyes wide, at rapt attention. Eiji pressed his clammy hand against Oishi's round, boyish face.

"Oishi…" Eiji was surprised to hear his voice crack and break. "You know I love you right?"

His counterpart nodded, olive eyes dancing with pure joy, mouth curling in triumph. He opened his mouth to speak, but Eiji pressed his finger against it.

"I always will." He continued, unable to stop the tears that threatened to fall. "Always. Do you understand that?"

Oishi nodded softly.

Eiji removed his finger and replaced it with his lips. Oishi froze for a split second, and then responded in kind. Oishi's tongue was ravenous; it burst through Eiji's defenses and swept the caverns on his mouth.

Soft groans permeated the air, and Eiji could not keep track of who was moaning and who was all but whimpering.

Strong hands gripped the small of his back and Eiji let himself be pulled down, on top of his team mate. Eiji felt a hard bulge rub against his bare knee.

"Ah…" he whispered, pulling his mouth away with difficulty. Oishi's eyes snapped open, clouded with impatience and lust.

"What's wrong?" he croaked, reaching up to drag Eiji back down.

"No." whispered Eiji. "I can't." His heart broke and mended and broke again when the words left his mouth. And he knew them to be true. "It's too late, Oishi."

True, genuine fear filled Oishi's face and he blanched a deathly white. "What?"

Eiji sat up and Oishi followed suit. The two of them looked at each other for a long time.

There were no words. But as they started into each other's eyes, everything was said.

"You don't love me anymore?" whispered Oishi, covering his face with his hands.

Eiji could not look at him. "I just told you I did." He joked, tears trickling down his face. "Don't you listen? That's your problem Oishi." His voice cracked. "You don't listen."

There was no response.

"It's just…not the right time for us, Oishi." he whispered softly, looking out on the horizon. "Maybe one day it will be. I hope…I hope it will be."

Oishi still did not remove his face from his hands. Silently, Eiji leaned over and pressed his lips against Oishi's forehead.

"I will always be your friend." He mumbled into the kiss, fighting to contain the torrent of tears that had been unleashed. "Your very best friend, Oishi. Forever."

And then he swung down from the ledge and took off at a run, down the hill and towards the city.

He didn't look back.

He couldn't.

There was nothing left to break.

_Well I tried but I had to draw the line_

_And still this question keeps on spinning in my mind…_

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Fuji didn't need to ask. It was one of his many gifts- he seemed to have all but perfected the art of tacit communication. He did not need words. His eyes, his smile, the exact pressure of his touch….it was usually enough.

And so when Eiji crept into the house an hour after he'd already arrived, face as blank as a corpse, Fuji did not need to ask what had happened.

To be very honest, Fuji had known how it would end. How it had to end. Most likely even before Eiji himself had.

Fuji knew that Eiji loved Oishi. And Fuji knew that Oishi loved Eiji. And Fuji also knew that love was not always enough. He knew that in time, Eiji would move on and love again.

Time healed everything. Or so wise men said. Fuji had never really believed that. He'd had too much proof to the contrary.

Tezuka had been his best friend. And now the two of them could barely look at each other. Not because they truly hated each other. Simply because there was too much that had never been said.

And most likely, mused Fuji, as he wordlessly enveloped Eiji in his arms, never would be.

Ryoma sat in the corner of the living room, clutching a glass of milk and looking upon the two of them with clear pity. The younger boy's eyes were bright and alert with concern.

Fuji released Eiji and looked him for a long moment. "I made cobbler." He said, without any kind of inflection.

The red head offered up a weak smile. "My favorite. You knew, then."

Fuji nodded. Eiji laughed dryly. "I assume you also have ice cream?"

"No," piped up Ryoma, and he looked almost sheepish. His eyes slid away from Eiji's like a child caught at thieving. "I…kind of…ate it…"

Eiji looked at the dark haired prodigy, incredulous. "You ate all of it?"

Ryoma nodded, scratching the back of his head and licking the remainder off his lips.

"Sorry…"

There was a split second of silence, and then Eiji burst into laughter.

"Ochibi, you are such a child!"

"I am not!" protested Ryoma, bottom lip extending in a slight pout.

Fuji stepped back and watched, silent and thoughtful. He allowed his two most precious people to argue back and forth, wondering, as he often did, how he had come to be so fortunate.

And, as he so often did, he was unable to find an answer. Fuji couldn't help but think that karma had been far too kind to him. He couldn't help but think after all his sins, after all his selfish games, that happiness could not simply be delivered on a silver platter, all tied up in a bow.

But then Ryoma's round little face turned in his direction, golden eyes bright and dazzling, signature half smile on his lips.

And Fuji ceased to care.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I love him, Kaidoh." Momoshiro whispered brokenly, burying his head in the crook of his elbow. "I thought as long as he was happy, I'd be okay. I thought…I didn't think I was so selfish."

"You aren't selfish." Countered the viper firmly, hand resting on his rival's shoulder. "You're one of the most selfless people I know."

"I am at your house, at one am on a school night, keeping you from sleep."

Kaidoh shrugged. "I'm your rival. I can't have you falling apart on me. Consider it part of the deal."

Momoshiro laughed softly, but it soon morphed into a ragged sob. "I don't know what to do. I always thought that one day he'd see how much I…that one day…"

"Momoshiro," interrupted Kaidoh gently. "Let me explain something to you before I put you to bed. No arguing, you're going to bed…you look fit to keel over. But let me just say this…" the viper took a deep breath.

"Love is not a victory march."

A dry, weak smile sprung to the purple eyed boys lips.

"It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah."

There was a pause, and then they both laughed. This time Momoshiro did not sob.

"And here I thought you were going to say something serious."

Kaidoh grunted. "I was serious. Now go to bed. I'll be here when you wake up tomorrow."

_What if I had never let you go?_

_Would you be the man I used to know?_

_What if I had never walked away? _

_Cause I still love you more than I can say_

_If I'd stayed, if you'd tried, if we could only turn back time_

_But I guess we'll never know…_

_**Author's Note: I really hope you liked it. Getting close to the end now. Please keep reading. Please review. I love you all. **_


	13. Delphinium

_**Author's Note: I am so sorry everyone, I really and truly am. I regret to inform all of you that my health has been rapidly declining; I've been so ill these past few months it's been nearly impossible to write. But not a day has gone by when this story and all of you have not filled my head. I feel stronger now, and I sincerely hope all of you will continue to read and review. Thank you! **_

_Chapter 13: Delphinium _

_I'll sing it one last time for you _

_Then we really have to go_

_You've been the only thing that's right_

_In all I've done…_

He had no choice. He'd never had a choice. From the day he'd been born, it seemed, Tezuka had been given the title of hero.

It was a blessing. To be loved and respected so by all who he came in contact with. To be able to place his own feelings aside and be there for everyone. It was his destiny to play the hero, and it was an illustrious one at that. He was lucky, lucky beyond words to be everyone's hero.

The only problem with that, with the perfect destiny, was that there was no one left to save him.

No one left to hold him when he cried.

To whisper, "It's okay, you don't have to be strong. You don't have to pretend. It's your turn to be happy now."

And usually, it was okay like that. Usually he didn't need anyone. It had always been that way.

Until Ryoma.

From the moment the cocky first year had lifted those golden eyes to face him, it had all been different. A hook had been sunk into his heart.

And the only way to remove it was to cease to exist all together.

"Buchou…" the all too familiar voice penetrated his musings. But it was different than usual. It was hesitant.

It was then that Tezuka was reminded exactly where he was. Kawamura's sushi restaurant, in celebration of their victory at Nationals. The happiest night of their lives. So why was he standing alone on the sidewalk, leaning against a street lamp?

Tezuka turned slowly, taking painstaking care to plant a smile on his face.

"Ryoma? What are you doing out here? Why aren't you inside with the others?"

Ryoma frowned at the questions. His bright eyes were even brighter in the fading evening light. The 1st place gold medal hung around the youngest regular's neck was dull in comparison.

"Everyone missed you." Ryoma's nose furrowed a little, just the slightest wrinkle indicating his discontent. "I missed you."

Tezuka had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could respond.

_Don't. Don't go down that road again. You had your chance and you lost it._

"I'm sorry," said Tezuka sincerely, and he truly was, but for different reasons. "I just needed a minute. It's all so much to take in."

Ryoma stepped forward to stand next to his captain, eyes not leaving Tezuka's face.

"Yes," agreed the freshman, "We finally did it. We won Nationals. Everything we've worked for came true. It's perfect, isn't it?" He finished with a slight hint of desperation in his tone, and Tezuka smiled a little.

"Yes, Ryoma. It's perfect."

"Why aren't you happy?" the young boy demanded suddenly, shocking Tezuka with the ferocity of his statement.

Tezuka blinked. "I…Ryoma, I am happy…"

"Don't lie to me!" the olive haired regular nearly shouted it, and Tezuka's mouth snapped shut. Those eyes were burning a hole through his façade, exposing all his half truths and lies.

"You always lie to me." Ryoma's voice lowered, sadness flickering across his perfect face. "You never tell me what you're thinking or how you feel."

A flash of anger rippled through Tezuka then, coupled with resentment. He struggled to retain the truth that would break the boy in front of him to pieces, just as he had been broken.

"Leave it, Ryoma. There isn't anything to tell."

The prodigy let out a low growl and grabbed Tezuka's wrists, stepping in front of him and staring him down. Determination was etched into every inch of his body.

"This is your dream," he pleaded, tightening his grip. "Tezuka, your dream! You should be happy! You…should be…" his voice broke then, and he bit his lip.

Tezuka shut his eyes against the tears that threatened to come. This blatant display of emotion showed just how deeply Ryoma still cared for him, and it was more than enough to weaken his resolve.

But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring himself to tell the truth that would break Ryoma's heart.

_No, Ryoma…you were my dream._

"I am happy, Ryoma." He said firmly, taking Ryoma's lightly muscled arms and pulling them close. Tezuka couldn't look at him. He angled his eyes upward ever so slightly, letting the light from the street light blind him.

Ryoma jutted out his lower lip in a pout, clearly not convinced.

"Promise?" he queried bluntly, and Tezuka would have laughed, had he been so focused on not crying.

"I promise."

_I'm sorry, Ryoma. This is how it has to be. _

* * *

"When are you going to stop moping?" Fuji smiled politely, as if he were inquiring after the weather, rather than insulting his best friend.

Eiji rolled his eyes and motioned for the sadist to pass the ketchup. Fuji picked it up and dangled it, teasingly, in front of the acrobat's face.

"You didn't answer me."

Ryoma snorted. Eiji glanced at him curiously. The youngest regular hadn't said more than two words all afternoon. He obviously wasn't happy about being dragged out of bed at seven o' clock on a Sunday, forced to wear an outfit of Fuji's choosing, and paraded around town like a trophy wife.

Fuji's little excursions, if that's what they could be called, were random, far in between, and inconveniently unannounced.

Eiji just went along for the ride, because usually, the day ended with a free meal courtesy of the tensai. They were eating said free meal now, at one of the nicest burger joints in the city, and Eiji wasn't about to waste it.

He'd ordered the Deluxe- bacon, three kinds of cheese, pickles, onions, spicy mustard, hot peppers, and hollandaise sauce. Along with extra large fries and a Pepsi, it was the perfect gourmet experience. With one minor issue…Fuji refused to relinquish the ketchup.

"I'm not moping," quipped Eiji impatiently, "I would like to eat my fries before they get cold. Now give it, Fuji."

"You're moping," Fuji's smile didn't waver, "You've been moping since Friday. It's Oishi's new girlfriend isn't it?"

Eiji turned sheet white and immediately looked down, staring at his plate as if it contained the true meaning of life.

"No," he flat lined, pushing his straw with his pinkie finger. It whizzed around the side of the glass. "It doesn't."

He'd been purposely trying not to think about that. How Oishi had been cavorting about with some girl he'd met at book club for the past two weeks. She was nice enough…but she was dreadfully dull. Yumi Asahina: 5'6, 132 lbs, IQ 139, eyes brown, hair of the same color. So, in other words, just like everyone else. Nothing special, nothing worth fussing over. Nothing worth Oishi.

Eiji ignored it- the little prick he got in his stomach every time he saw them together. He'd promised Oishi the two would remain friends, and so they were. When Oishi canceled their weekly movie night to go to see an art show with Yumi, he'd agreed amicably.

"She's your girlfriend," he'd joked, getting his friend in a head lock and rubbing the top of his considerably higher head. "And if art will get you laid, I say have at it."

He had not said what he'd been thinking. He had not said, "You're gay and I know it, and you know it, so why are you wasting your time with this stupid girl?"

He had not asked, "Do you kiss her the way you kissed me? Has she touched you yet, has she made you say her name the way you never said mine?"

He did not do any of that. Because, he reasoned, he'd been the one to break things off. He had no right to second guess Oishi's happiness.

If he had made a mistake, it was too late to fix it now.

"Fuji," Ryoma snapped curtly, stabbing his untouched plate of food with his fork. It was a warning tone. Ryoma wasn't a fan of Fuji's games, having been a victim and now, a principal player in them.

"It's fine, Ochibi." Eiji forced himself to grin. "If you could just get your boy toy to pass the ketchup, I'll be alright."

"He isn't my-"protested Ryoma hotly, face flushing pink, but Fuji cut him off.

"Speaking of moping," he interjected, turning his close eyed smile to his boyfriend. "When did your cat die?"

"Shut up, Fuji." Ryoma narrowed his golden orbs. "Karupin isn't dead."

Eiji raised an eyebrow. Fuji must really be out to provoke a fight. During the relatively short time Eiji had known Ryoma, he'd figured out that the first year was usually rather receptive to humor, or at least indifferent to it.

But just like everything, there were rules attached. Ryoma had three taboos, and Karupin was the third among them. Eiji couldn't help but see how far Fuji would push it.

"Could've fooled me," drawled Fuji, but there was something different about this teasing. There was the tiniest hint of steel in his tone. "You haven't said a word to me since Friday."

"Not true," countered Ryoma, sipping his Ponta as if he didn't care either way. "I told you to get the hell away from me when you tried to grope me yesterday, and I told you I hated you this morning when you climbed through my window and dragged me out of bed."

Eiji blanched. He'd at least gotten a call. Granted, said call _had_ been at four am- but still.

Fuji's crystalline blue eyes flickered open and he pinned his boyfriend with a hard stare.

"It's Tezuka." He said dryly, in a tone that left no room for questions. "You feel guilty about rejecting him."

Ryoma flinched visibly, and Eiji knew Fuji had struck a raw nerve. He could identify only too well. Sometimes the tensai, in his possessiveness, could be down right cruel.

"Shut up."

"It's true, isn't it? You feel bad because you hurt your role model's feelings-,"

"Shut up!" growled Ryoma, turning to face his sempai. "Yes, alright? Yes, I feel like absolute shit! And if you had a fucking soul, you would too!"

Eiji flinched. It wasn't like Ryoma to curse. At least not like that.

"Fuji," mumbled Eiji, trying desperately to salvage the fast deteriorating mood, "Stop it, already."

"Don't waste your breath, sempai." snarled Ryoma, golden eyes dark and clouded with anger. He stood up from his seat in one quick motion, pushing his plate towards Eiji. "He won't stop. He won't stop until he's ruined everything."

Fuji's lower lip quivered then, ever so slightly, and his eyes drifted shut before Eiji could make out what was in them.

"Ochibi…" Eiji began to stand, but Fuji shook his head, almost imperceptibly. The acrobat stopped in his tracks.

Ryoma nodded curtly at Eiji, did not so much as glance in his boyfriend's direction, and spun on his heels. Then he was gone, and the last Eiji saw of him was an olive toned head of hair melding into the chaos of the streets.

Eiji turned to Fuji, irritation prickling at his skin. "Great, Fuji. Just great. Drive him off, just like you drive everyone off who actually gives a damn about you."

Fuji did not respond immediately. His honey hair fell over his face, casting a dark shadow over his half open azure orbs.

His mouth was twisted into a small, bitter smile.

Eiji sighed. "Fuji…aren't you going to go after him?"

"No need." Fuji's smile faltered then and his face turned into hard, porcelain stone. "He's already gone."

* * *

Ryoma did not know where he was going. He had never been to this part of Tokyo before. He had simply taken the train as far as it would go, to the end of the line.

Not for any particular reason. He didn't have much of a reason for anything these days.

These past few weeks with Fuji had been almost serene. On the good days, when Fuji was the most beautiful thing in the world, when nothing was brighter than his honest to god smile, it felt as if the two of them were floating above it all.

On those days, Ryoma could forget the broken look in his captain's hazel eyes. He could ignore the slight droop of Momo's shoulders whenever Ryoma canceled on him to be with Fuji. He could look at Oishi and his new girlfriend and be totally unperturbed.

Because when one was wholly engrossed in Fuji Syusuke, it was very easy to forget.

Not so much on days like this. When Fuji was being bitter and vindictive, when his smile was faker than anything. No, on days like this, it was impossible to forget all who had paid the price for his happiness.

Logically, it wasn't his fault. That's what he told himself, what he had to tell himself, to help him sleep at night. He couldn't help that he loved Fuji more than Tezuka. He hadn't done anything wrong.

So why did he feel such a gut wrenching ache every time Tezuka looked at him with those bottomless almond colored eyes?

Something deep inside of him was screaming, screaming with guilt and anger at Fuji. After all, if Fuji was out of the picture, it was very likely that he and his captain would be together.

It all seemed so…perfect.

The two of them together.

But yet, the only one who made his heart beat like a drum and flutter like a bird was Fuji. And for some strange reason, Ryoma couldn't quite forgive himself for that.

Because if everyone else around him had to be sad, shouldn't he have to suffer too?

A tingle shot up Ryoma's leg and he didn't have to look to know that his cell phone was vibrating. He also didn't have to look to know who the caller was.

He dug into his pocket, knawing gently at his bottom lip. Surprisingly, the number that appeared on the screen wasn't Fuji's at all.

He answered it tentatively, afraid that his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Buchou?"

There was a soft clicking sound in the background and then Tezuka's slightly muffled voice came through.

"Ryoma? I'm glad I caught you. I need a favor."

Ryoma felt his heart skip a beat.

_Ask me anything. Anything I can do to put a smile back on your face._

"Of course. What do you need?"

"Can you come over today? Around six, maybe?"

The train screeched to a halt and Ryoma was jolted forward, narrowly avoiding crashing into a pole.

"Um…yeah." He found himself whispering against his will and he forced himself to sound normal. "Sure. I can do that. Is everything okay?"

There was silence on the other line and Ryoma swallowed the air in his throat. "Tezuka?"

"Oh yeah," the captain's voice was dry as sandpaper. "Everything's fine. My parents are out of town though and I'm just in desperate need of some company. Maybe we could play a game of tennis?"

Ryoma nodded, before realizing that Tezuka couldn't see him. "Yeah…of course. That sounds great. So, it's…three thirty now, which gives me time to get back home. I'll be there."

There was a pause, as if the green haired boy was debating whether or not to say something.

"That sounds good. See you then."

The line clicked once and went dead. Ryoma pressed the cell phone against his chest, trying to still the suddenly frantic beat of his heart.

* * *

_Didn't need to ask _

_I didn't know the reason _

_The world is spinning too fast _

_So I'll wait till it comes to me _

"Fuji, just call him and apologize already. You've been staring at that phone for hours."

Eiji's voice came to him as if from far away, though in reality the acrobat was sitting right next to him.

The red head clucked his tongue and scooted closer to Fuji, closing the already minimal distance between them.

Almost without thinking, Fuji lifted his arm and without prompting his friend nestled his unkempt head against the prodigy's chest.

"Thank you for inviting me over, Eiji." He mumbled absently, turning to smile brilliantly at his best friend.

Eiji was undeterred. "Fuji," he pleaded dark eyes bright in his dimly lit bedroom, "Please call him. Ochibi loves you. This is so much more than a fling for him."

The tensai said nothing. Perhaps one of his greatest gifts was the wisdom, and sometimes the folly, to say absolutely nothing at all. So he did not say what was on his heart, what kept him up at all hours of the night.

He did not say, "I know he loves me, I know he does, and it frightens me."

He did not say, "But don't you understand it's so much more than that now? Don't you understand that I love him with everything I am?"

He did not say, "For the first time in my life I have no idea what to do. For the first time in my life I don't have a plan."

He did not say any of that.

He simply squeezed his cell phone until his knuckles turned white as the bone beneath and shook his head, forcing a smile to his lips.

"No, no." he said jovially, the stabbing pain inside of his chest intensified by every falsehood that passed his lips. "I'll leave him be."

Eiji pouted, like a child, clearly discontented by Fuji's response.

"Fuji," he groaned, "Why do you do this to him? To both of you? Why do you insist on playing these mind games? Why can't you just tell him you love him?"

Fuji shook his head, slowly and deliberately. "I'm not doing anything to him, Eiji. If he's unsure about his feeling for me it is hardly my fault."

And then he turned his head away, just for an instant, because there was one lie he could not tell.

He could not say, "I don't love him."

The words would tear his soul to pieces.

Eiji let out a ragged sigh. "You're an idiot sometimes, Fuji. If you keep this up, you're going to lose him."

Fuji said nothing. There was nothing he could say. He tightened his grip around Eiji's torso, planting a soft kiss on the taller boy's forehead.

He immediately softened. "Oh, Fuji." He mumbled softly, turning his face into the honey haired boy's chest. "I just want you to be happy."

"Have a care for yourself, love," Fuji whispered, affection warming his numb limbs. "Have a care for your own happiness. Have you tried talking to Oishi?"

The acrobat bristled immediately. "No," he spat, "I don't want to talk about him. Stop changing the subject."

Fuji barely managed to contain a knowing smile. "I'm sorry. I was simply curious as to what you were planning to do. Other than bury your head in the sand and lie to yourself."

There was a pause then and Fuji prepared himself to be smacked, or pushed away, or screamed at. But none of that happened. The pause stretched on and Eiji remained perfectly still. He didn't even seem to be breathing.

A cold dread swept over Fuji in one quick rush and he pushed the younger boy away from him, holding him by the shoulders and turning to face him full on.

Eiji's face was downturned and his eyes had drifted half shut, almost as if he were praying.

Two tears trickled from his dark eyes.

Fuji blanched, horrified. "Eiji…I'm so sorry. I never meant…"

The red head silenced Fuji with a gentle shake of his head.

"No," he said calmly, voice flat. "Just leave, please."

Fuji sat rooted to the spot, pity overwhelming his rational senses. "Eiji, I am so sorry-,"

"I know you are," Eiji continued, in that same, dead voice of his. "You are always sorry, Fuji."

Fuji reached out a hand, desperate to take away the pain he seemed to cause so easily and so often.

Eiji moved away, towards the window. "No. Just go. Please."

Fuji stood at once, turning towards the door without another word. Eiji would stay angry with him for a day, two at most, and then he could apologize. This was a sequence the two of them had run more than once.

And so he left without protest, because it was his gift after all, to say nothing.

* * *

_If you're not the one then why does my soul feel glad today?  
If you're not the one then why does my hand fit yours this way?  
If you are not mine then why does your heart return my call  
If you are not mine would I have the strength to stand at all?_

He'd had honest intentions. Really, he had. When he'd picked up the phone and invited Ryoma over it had been from a genuine desire to see the other boy.

What he hadn't planned was for the two of them to end up alone, under a pink sky, at a tennis court that was closed for maintenance. That had most definitely not been part of his plan.

Ryoma fidgeted next to him, clearly at a loss for what to say. Tezuka racked his brains for a plausible solution. He did not trust himself alone with Ryoma for very long, not when the fading sunlight illuminated his round, childlike face and sparked those golden eyes to a smolder.

Not when his loose tennis shirt and shorts revealed the slightness of his frame and the perfection of his gently tanned skin. Not when he'd pined after his young counterpart for so long only to be shot down by some twist of fate.

"Um…I'm sorry, Echizen." He managed to say, trying not to blush. "I promised you a game."

Ryoma shook his head, easy grin sliding onto his face. "It's okay. You're spared the humiliation of losing to me for yet another day, buchou."

Tezuka raised an eyebrow.

"You're still cocky as ever, I see."

The future captain shrugged his shoulders. "Well, if you can back it up."

Tezuka could barely stifle a laugh. It never failed to amaze him how easily Ryoma could shift the atmosphere from one mood to another with little more than a joke.

"Well…how about dinner, then?" Tezuka suggested, gaining more and more confidence in his ability to handle the situation.

The brilliant smile that lit up Ryoma's face was answer enough.

"Sure," he said enthusiastically, "You're paying, buchou."

This time, Tezuka could not contain his laugh. It came out like a snort. "That's a surprise. Where do you want to go?"

Ryoma shrugged. "I'm starving. Food is food to me." He shot Tezuka a mischievous little grin. "Or you could cook for me, buchou."

Tezuka said nothing, only waved his hand in dismissal of that absurd theory and began to walk towards the main street in his part of town. There were lots of restaurants and things to choose from and he would be spared the awkwardness of standing in one spot.

"I don't cook," he said after a moment. Ryoma had fallen into easy step beside him, racket tucked under his shoulder, hands shoved in his pockets. Their elbows brushed occasionally as they walked. "Despite my many talents, I'm lucky if I can get water to boil."

Ryoma laughed at that, a free, boundless laugh that made it hard for Tezuka not to snatch him up and press that sweet mouth against his own.

"I'm surprised, buchou. I always assumed you'd be good at everything."

"Hardly."

Ryoma laughed again and Tezuka was very careful to keep his eyes pinned straight ahead.

"I can't cook either," he conceded sheepishly, as if this were supposed to be unexpected.

"Echizen, I doubt you can do much more than swing that racket around and look pretty."

Ryoma paused mid-stride and Tezuka looked at him, puzzled. There was a curious look on his face.

"You called me pretty." His tone was free of any inflection.

Tezuka blushed hot, kicking himself for embarking on this ill fated enterprise just to indulge a sudden whim.

"Well…yes…"

Ryoma grinned up at him, sunlight streaming through his eyelashes. There was a pure, unabashed joy on his face that drove every coherent thought out of Tezuka's head.

"You know what, buchou? I think you're pretty too."

Tezuka didn't remember moving. Nor did he remember dropping his racket, but that too clattered to the sidewalk with a resounding clack in the silence.

What he did remember was the way Ryoma felt pressed against his chest. He remembered the way that his slim waist fit perfectly in Tezuka's hands. And he remembered how very sweet that mouth tasted against his own when the captain kissed him as if the world would end if he stopped.

Ryoma's golden eyes were wide and smoldering. The younger boy's hands flailed uselessly at his side and he let out a low, soft little moan.

After what felt like the shortest piece of forever, the kiss ended. Tezuka pulled back, face red and hot, glasses pushed askew.

Ryoma's small hands had curled themselves around his wrists and his little pink mouth had formed into a breathless "o."

"Buchou…" he breathed, wavering slightly on his feet. Tezuka pulled him closer, if that were possible.

"Ryoma," he gasped, beyond caring about the consequences of his actions. He was so god damned sick of playing the martyr; he was so god damned sick of watching the boy he desired with all his heart slip away from him without a word in protest. "Ryoma, I can't stand it anymore. Please, you have to understand. I love you, I've loved you from the moment I saw you."

Ryoma began to shake then, furiously, but said nothing. His wide eyes were staring without seeing at a spot past Tezuka's head.

Tezuka began to panic then. It was clear his words were getting no response. His heart began to thud so loudly it prevented him from thinking.

"Please, Ryoma…I…" he dropped his voice to a whisper. "I love you more than him."

Ryoma's eyes spun into focus, his forehead knitted into a puzzled frown. "Buchou…"

"How many times has he mocked you? Has he forgotten to call? How many times has he groped you shamelessly in public?" Tezuka fumed, pressing his waist against the younger boy's until their hips were practically ground together.

Ryoma shook his head, mouth wavering into a thin line. "No…" he hesitated, "He's not…it isn't…"

"Has he ever said told you he loved you?" whispered Tezuka, knowing full well that Fuji hadn't and would never.

Ryoma recoiled as if he'd been struck, his knees gave way and he sunk backward, Tezuka's arms the only thing supporting him.

"Stop it," he whimpered, bottom lip quivering. "You're wrong."

"I am not wrong!"

The shout echoed around the empty park, the leaves on the trees seemed so shake around them.

"Ryoma," pleaded Tezuka, struggling to contain his ardor, desperate to make Ryoma see. "Fuji is using you. Can't you see that?"

"You're lying," breathed Ryoma, shaking his head furiously. His golden eyes were torn. "Stop saying those things. Stop lying."

"He was in love with me, did he tell you that?" pressed Tezuka, shaking Ryoma like a rag doll. "He was in love with me for years but I saw him for what he was. I had eyes for you, only for you, and he tried to take you from for revenge."

Ryoma froze then, as if someone had encased him in ice. Not even his eyes moved.

Tezuka placed a finger under his chin and lifted it, forcing his teammate to look at him. "Ryoma." He whispered, voice cracking. He released Ryoma's waist and placed his palm against the youngest regular's cheek. "Don't you see? It's supposed to be like this. You are mine."

The captain leaned down so that his lips were just brushing Ryoma's.

"_You are mine." _

A warm wetness touched Tezuka's cheek. He pulled away, stunned into stillness.

There, before him under the setting sun, was Echizen Ryoma, tears trickling freely down his face with no move made to stop them.

Tezuka froze with horror, mouth gasping, desperately searching for words. Humiliation radiated from his toes to his cheeks and he reached out a shaking hand.

"Ryoma…I didn't mean…"

Ryoma stumbled backwards, barely managing to keep from falling. He held out his hands in front of him like a shield, shaking his head back and forth frantically.

The look in his eyes twisted Tezuka's insides into a grotesque knot.

The first year turned on his heel and took off at a dead sprint, signature red tennis racket left forgotten on the pavement.

Tezuka watched him go, unable to do anything but hold back his own tears. The retreating figure of his love grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared completely.

And Tezuka was alone.

_Well, you've done it, Tezuka. Congratulations. _

_You've actually broken his heart. _

* * *

_How do I not love you?_

_What do I tell my heart?_

_How do I not miss you? _

_When you are gone? _

He ran until he could run no more, he ran until it felt as if his lungs would burst inside his chest. He was not thinking where to go, his feet, every fiber in his being already knew where he needed to be.

By the time he reached Fuji's neighborhood he'd stopped crying. He banged on the door for what seemed like hours, pounding his knuckles until they were raw.

"Fuji!" he screamed, beyond caring who heard or saw him. "Fuji! Open the door! Open the door Fuji!"

The door opened, just a crack at first, and one clear azure eye stared Ryoma dead in the face. Fuji stepped out onto the front porch, closing the door behind him

He took in Ryoma's appearance with an impassive face and he seemed unmoved by his boyfriend's screams.

"Ryoma," he said, polite concern lacing his voice. "Why-,"

"Shut up!" screamed Ryoma, flinging himself against Fuji, beating his chest like a five year old. "Shut up, shut up! You lied to me! You've always lied to me!"

To his absolute horror, the tears from earlier returned full force, soaking his cheeks in a matter of seconds.

Fuji's eyes flickered open fully and he made no move to resist his assault.

"Ryoma…"

"No!" Ryoma cried, fisting his hands in Fuji's shirt. "Don't deny it! You used me! You never loved me!"

Fuji did not ask what Ryoma was talking about. Instead, he looked away, eyes downcast, face a mask of nothing.

Ryoma sucked in a ragged breath that burned his throat and he doubled over, sobbing helplessly, using Fuji's shirt to hold himself upright.

"You…never…loved…me…" he gasped, forcing himself to look directly into Fuji's bottomless blue eyes.

The tensai said nothing. The silence said all that needed to be said.

Ryoma raised his hands to Fuji's face, catching hold of that honey hued shade of hair. "I don't care," he gasped, and Fuji's eyes filled with something he couldn't read. "I don't care that you don't love me yet. I forgive you for lying to me, I don't care about that. We can…we can still…"

"No, Ryoma," whispered Fuji gently, disentangling himself from the dark haired boy. "It's about time both of us face the truth."

Ryoma had to fight back a massive sob that threatened to tear through him. "I am facing it. I can't…I can't live without you. And I know you…I know you care for me…you can't tell me you don't…"

Fuji shook his head, pressing his impossibly soft lips against Ryoma's damp cheek, so that it was right next to the freshman's ear.

"Shhh," he cooed softly, as if he were singing a lullaby and not delivering a death blow. "It's time to let this go, now Ryoma. Please don't cry. Please…don't cry for me."

With a sudden burst of force, the tensai pushed Ryoma backwards and retreated back into the house, shutting the door with resolute finality behind him.

Ryoma collapsed against the stoop, sinking to his knees. The harsh scrap of concrete drew blood but he barely notice.

"Fuji," he groaned, pressing his wet face against the door. "Please…I don't want…I don't want to…"

He was blabbering now; he didn't even know what he was pleading for. He didn't even know what he wanted but for all of this to stop. He just wanted it to not be happening; he just wanted Fuji to smile at him. He just wanted the agony to stop.

He just wanted Fuji.

He didn't know how long he sat there, crying like a child, begging in a fading whisper. What he did know is that when he finally left Fuji's doorstep the light was gone and only darkness remained.

If Ryoma had been able to see through the door, he would've seen a figure slumped against it, honey brown hair overshadowing a porcelain face.

He would've seen that the figure had not moved from that spot and did not move even after Ryoma had gone.

He would've seen the person mouth three words.

And then he would've seen the silent tears that trickled down the pale face, like rain on the side of the moon.

* * *

_**Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed that. I am sorry if it was not up to your expectations. Just two more chapters! I beg all of you to keep reading and reviewing, it means so much to me, and I promise I will try and update soon. Thank you all. **_


	14. Awakening

_**Author's Note: I just have to say thank you to all of you for reading. From the bottom of my heart. This journey has been incredible and I never dreamed that so many people would take it with me. I hope to see all you again, for the last chapter and for many more things to come. **_

_Chapter Fourteen: Awakening_

_When the rain is blowing in your face_

_And the whole world is on your case_

_I could offer you a warm embrace_

_To make you feel my love_

It had been two weeks. Fourteen days since Fuji had slammed the door in his face and denied his love. Denied their love. Denied that it had ever existed. Fourteen days since he'd crawled into bed and refused to get out. His mother had begged and his father had threatened but Ryoma refused to yield. His skin had grown wan and taken on a sickly yellowish tint from lack of sunlight. He had lost weight; he only ate when his mother broke down and pleaded with him. And even then, he ate just enough to keep himself alive. He hadn't bathed since that day. He gave off a bitter, tangy odor that repulsed him. His skin, caked in layers of unshed dirt, was constantly itchy. He had developed scabs from picking at it so much. Late at night, he could hear his parents fighting across the hall.

"Nanjiroh, we have to do something!" his mother croaked desperately.

Ryoma could imagine her stalking across the room, wringing her hands like she always did when she was distraught.

"I've already offered to call a doctor. Ryoma won't hear it. I can't make him better if he doesn't want to be better, Rinko," his father soothed, tone unusually gentle.

"Well we can't just-we can't just leave it like this! I…I can't bear to see him this way. I hear him crying at night…he doesn't want us to hear but I do, I…" her voice broke off as she dissolved into tears.

Ryoma knew how much pain he was causing her. Under normal circumstances, he would feel exceedingly guilty. But he could not feel. His heart, rather than being broken, seemed to have disappeared altogether. He could not find it. Sometimes he would press his hand to his chest and marvel at the pulse of his heartbeat.

He had to do that, to remind himself that he was alive. Otherwise, if he heeded only the gaping emptiness in his chest, in his entire being, Ryoma would be quite certain that he was dead.

But of course, he was not dead. Because dead men did not cry at night, in the morning, and all the time between.

_I know you haven't made your mind up yet_

_But I will never do you wrong_

_I've known it from the moment that we met_

_No doubt in my mind where you belong_

He hadn't expected it to be like this. Tezuka knew that Fuji was a total idiot and that it was all too likely that he would drive Ryoma away, for whatever twisted reason popped into his head. But he had never expected it to end like this.

Part of him was happy-selfishly, vindictively, jealously happy. But it was a much smaller part than he had thought. The majority of him was just miserable.

The only clear emotion he could define was pure anger, directed at the boy he'd once called his best friend. Oishi had made sure that the two of them stayed as far from each other as possible. No one was interested in a repeat of the hellish Seigaku feuds. It seemed that Fuji was avoiding him, in any case.

The prodigy walked around like a ghost, speaking to no one but Eiji, scarcely taking his eyes off the horizon. Those blue eyes orbs had been crinkled shut for weeks. No one had any way of knowing what he was thinking or feeling. That is, if he was feeling anything at all. Tezuka wasn't sure anymore.

Oishi tapped him on the shoulder, olive eyes knowing.

"Tezuka, you have to stop brooding." He said gently. His bouncy girlfriend Yumi was clinging to his free arm, oblivious as usual to the tension boiling beneath the surface.

Tezuka sucked in a breath and increased his pace. He wished he hadn't agreed to walk home with Oishi. He really didn't want to be bothered right now.

"I'm fine, Oishi," he said, more curtly than he'd meant to.

"You aren't," the vice captain said simply, ignoring Yumi as she tried to engage him. "You're obviously angry. I'm warning you, Tezuka, it's best if we don't get involved. We have to let the two of them work this out themselves."

Tezuka snorted.

"Why? So that Fuji can just screw with him some more?"

"Tezuka," placated Oishi softly, prying Yumi off of him. She whined pitifully. "I think you know it isn't that simple."

"And why?" snarled the captain, suddenly furious. "Why isn't it so simple? Fuji manipulated him just to get back at me for rejecting him! He did all of this to get revenge, and now Ryoma is-,"

"Well that isn't very nice," interjected Yumi prettily, winding her arm around Oishi's waist. Oishi shot her an irritated, furtive glance.

"Yumi, can you take the train home by yourself today? I have a lot of work to do."

Yumi peered up at him through her dark brown bangs. Her forehead was damp from track practice.

"Really? But Tanawa-sensei didn't give us anything but some reading-,"

"Yumi," said Oishi patiently, prying her off for a second time and stopping in his tracks. She seemed to get the hint.

She pushed her glasses back on her nose. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow." She held out her arms, as if expecting a hug, but Oishi wasn't looking at her anymore. His eyes were focused on Tezuka, who was rapidly becoming a speck in the distance.

He was obviously not interested in waiting around.

"Yeah," the vice captain said absently. "Later."

He tightened his grip on his bag and took off at a jog. Tezuka turned around, saw Oishi following him, and came to a halt.

Oishi fell into an easy step next to his friend, who immediately started walking again.

"You didn't kiss your girlfriend goodbye, Oishi," remarked Tezuka dryly. "I'm starting to think you don't even like her."

The olive eyed boy let out a muffled squeak of indignation. "No changing the subject," he said firmly, pausing to allow three elementary school students to run across their path.

Tezuka watched the children fondly, like a doting old grandfather, and when they had disappeared around the corner his face hardened again. All emotion was wiped clean from it.

"So have you two had sex yet?"

Oishi made a choking sound. "How is that any of your business? Stop trying to avoid the conversation. I'm serious, Tezuka, if you touch a hair on Fuji's head Ryoma will hate you for-,"

"He won't," the captain retorted curtly. "Nothing I could do could make him hate me. And it was my business when Eiji-,"

"That's enough." Oishi's cheeks had paled and his right hand had begun to tremble. "Stop now."

"If you still love him, don't you think it's stupid to run around with some girl?" Tezuka had always been one for no nonsense conversations, and this one was no exception. He seemed oblivious, or at least immune, to Oishi's clear discomfort.

"I…I told you, he isn't interested in me that way. At least, not at the moment." Oishi struggled to keep his voice stable. Talking about Eiji this way was like reliving the moment his heart had shattered. No-actually, it was worse. The band-aid was slowly peeling off the still fresh wound and it stung.

Tezuka sighed. "You can be so dense. It isn't if Eiji's feelings are some great mystery. The boy practically wears a neon sign. He is obviously just as in love with you as he's always been."

Oishi's stomach clenched painfully. "I don't want to talk about this," he bit out, "That's what I thought. I was wrong. End of story."

"You weren't wrong," Tezuka said this slowly, as if speaking to a particularly slow child, "All you have to do is get him alone. I highly doubt he'll resist you."

Oishi wanted to scream. The memory of Eiji pushing him away and turning those dark, glistening eyes away from his own was playing across his head like a screenplay.

"I wouldn't take your advice," he hissed icily, "Considering that you tried the same thing and Ryoma rejected you."

Tezuka didn't flinch. "Well, it's different with us. Ryoma is-,"

Finally, Oishi could contain his anger no longer. It rose to the surface like a long dormant volcano ready to erupt.

"Us? Tezuka, don't you get it there is no "us!" There is no you and him! There is Ryoma and Fuji, can't you see that? There will never be any room for you!"

Tezuka stopped walking. A car honked at him as he stood stock still in the middle of the road. But he made no effort to move.

Oishi was too angry to feel guilty. Tezuka's denial was no longer tolerable, especially now that it had interfered with someone else's happiness.

"Give up on him," Oishi persisted, "He doesn't love you. He will never love you. It will always be Fuji. Even if they break up every other day, even if _you_ break them up, Ryoma will never be yours. Even if you somehow manage to get him to be with you, he will never be yours. Don't you understand?"

Tezuka was silent for a long time. More cars honked at them and passerby stared at them, but Tezuka still did not move. His face was blank. His mouth wavered for a split second, before curling into a faint smirk.

He gripped Oishi's arm and pulled the other boy across the street. Safe on the sidewalk, he turned to face Oishi fully. He took off his glasses and Oishi let out a low gasp, anger dissipating.

Tezuka's eyes were soft and wide, emotion after emotion flickering across them. He looked near tears, but his faint smirk did not waver.

"Of course I understand, Oishi," he said simply, voice flat. "But then again…" he put his glasses back on and turned away. He fell back into his rhythm, steps clacking gently on the pavement. The setting sun filtered through his hair and Oishi was struck with a fierce urge to hug him.

"It's nice to dream isn't it?"

Oishi let out a low, strangled little laugh that was more like a cracked sob.

"Yes," he whispered under his breath, propelling himself forward to catch up his friend. "It is always nice to dream."

_I'd go hungry_

_I'd go black and blue _

_I'd go crawling down the avenue _

_No there's nothing that I wouldn't do _

_To make you feel my love_

Fuji's room, for the first time in over thirteen years, was messy. Papers were strewn on the desk, the bed was unmade and the sheets were wrinkled. The bedside trash can had not been emptied and it was starting to overflow with empty chip bags and soda cans. Eiji's favorite stuffed animal was perched on the window sill, indicating the acrobat's newly permanent presence and therefore, the reason for the mess.

Eiji had showed up on Fuji's doorstep the day after the break up carrying a large duffel bag.

"No arguments," he'd said, "I know your parents are still in China. Now whose room am I staying in?"

Fuji hadn't argued. He'd given Eiji the guest room, but the red head spent most of his time in Fuji's room. That was where he was now, slumped on the floor next to the bed.

"I will never understand you," whispered Eiji, running his fingers through Fuji's silky honey brown locks. The tensai did not respond. His head was buried in Eiji's chest and his arms were slung loosely around Eiji's waist. The acrobat was rocking back and forth gently, humming strains of songs he didn't know the words to.

It was the fourth day in a row Fuji had gotten the headaches. They came quickly and without warning. They were so bad sometimes that Fuji could do nothing but sit in his room with the blinds shut and cradle his head in his hands.

Eiji had never seen anything reduce his friend to tears. Ever. But now Eiji could feel warm liquid soaking through his shirt and he knew that Fuji was weeping. The tensai made no sound and his body was perfectly stationary, but it was enough to frighten Eiji horribly.

"Fuji," he whined petulantly, "Please, please let me call a doctor. Please. You can't stay like this. The medicine I gave you isn't working."

Fuji's muffled voice sent tingles up Eiji's spine. "No doctor," he mumbled softly, "Give it time."

"It's been long enough! You've tried every aspirin ever made! Please, Fuji, you're scaring me!" Eiji's voice rose in pitch and he felt Fuji flinch against him.

"Eiji," the prodigy whispered calmly, "Please don't cry."

"I'm not going to cry!" he whined, pressing his free hand against his eyes to stop the tears from coming.

"You are," mumbled Fuji, and his body shook ever so slightly. Eiji felt the vibrations of laughter through his shirt.

"I won't if you let me take you the hospital," he grumbled, removing his hand from Fuji's hair and pressing it against the other boy's porcelain forehead. It was covered in beads of sweat.

"I don't need to go the hospital," Fuji protested, pushing himself away from Eiji so that he was in sitting position. He had to support his weight by leaning on his arms and after a second, they began to shake precariously.

His face was pale and drawn and his cheeks were sunken in. His eyes were half shut and the blue that Eiji could see was so washed out it was nearly gray. There was no trace of tears on his face and Eiji thought that he might've imagined it after all.

"You look like death," Eiji whispered, unable to keep his voice from cracking. "God, Fuji. How can you stand this? How can you stand to be in so much pain?"

Fuji offered up a pathetic excuse for a smile, even worse than his usual attempts.

"It isn't so bad," he whispered, "There are worse types of pain. Compared to that, this isn't so bad at all."

Eiji let out a low groan, unable to stop a tear from falling. He hated to see Fuji suffer like this. He hated it. The tie between them was rooted deep within in his heart and the pain almost felt as if it was his.

In fact, he wished it was. He would gladly have taken it away.

"Is that what this is about?" he whispered fiercely, wiping his tears away before Fuji could see. "Are you doing this because you think deserve to be punished? Is this your idea of penance?"

Fuji shook his head almost imperceptibly. His eyes had drifted shut and it almost looked as if he were sleeping, if not for the deep lines that graced his brow.

"I didn't ask for this," He said quietly, "I don't know why this is happening now."

Eiji had to bite his lip to keep himself from screaming.

"I do," he said hotly, "Ryoma. It's because you miss him, it's because you feel horrible for breaking his heart and yours-,"

"Enough, Eiji," Fuji mumbled, "You know that has nothing to do with this. I let Ryoma go because it was the right thing to do."

Eiji did scream this time and Fuji cringed. "The right thing to do? Fuji, can you be so stupid? How is tormenting both of you the right thing to do?"

"I only went after him to hurt Tezuka," Fuji whispered hoarsely. He let himself fall to one side and curled into a ball, facing away from Eiji. "You know that. I just got tired of playing with him."

"Liar!" Eiji hissed, balling his hands into fists. "Don't lie to me! It may have started that way but you know that isn't how it is anymore! You love him-,"

"It doesn't matter. The two of us could never work. He'd only get hurt in the end."

"And what do you think he is now?" retorted the acrobat hotly, scooting closer to where Fuji lay. "What do you think he is now, then, Fuji? Why hasn't he come to school in two weeks? On vacation, is he?"

"He will get over that pain. I got out in time to ensure that he will be able to heal. Eventually he will forget me and move on. If I stayed with him, he…we….I don't think that anything would be able to fix him then."

Eiji fell silent. He had no idea what so say. What could he say? Fuji was always, no matter what, going to do what Fuji wanted.

"I just want you to be happy," pleaded Eiji, "Why can't you just let yourself be happy?"

Fuji's face was hidden from him but Eiji was fairly sure that the tensai was shaking.

"Because," he said dryly, "I'm a damn fool."

The shaking ceased. Eiji bit his lip.

"It isn't too late, Fuji. You can still fix this. Call him, go to him. There's still time left…"

Fuji did not respond.

"Fuji?"

Eiji closed the space between them. He pressed against Fuji's shoulder. It flopped to side mechanically-lifelessly. Eiji pushed him over, heart leaping into his throat.

Fuji's face was a mask of serenity. For the first time in days, it was not twisted in pain. His long lashes cast a shadow over his cheeks. He really did look like an angel. A stone angel.

Eiji couldn't help it this time. He screamed.

_I shouldn't love you _

_But I want to _

_I just can't look away _

_Cause I don't know how to be fine when I'm not_

_And I don't know how to make the feeling stop_

It was abnormally cold on the day Tezuka decided to visit Ryoma. He hadn't known what he was going to say or how he would react to seeing his teammate. He didn't know if Ryoma would cry on his shoulder or punch him in the face. Hell, that was assuming that Ryoma would even let him in. Eiji and Momoshiro had both tried to visit but Seigaku's youngest regular had refused to open the door.

Mrs. Echizen handed him a cup of tea. Her hands were shaking slightly and she looked as if she hadn't slept properly in weeks.

"Thank you," the captain said, unease building in the pit of his stomach. "It's um…it's cold today."

"Yes," the woman said absently, tucking a stray strand of hair back in place. "The sun has gone away for some reason. I just hope it comes back soon."

Tezuka swallowed the warm amber liquid in a single gulp, ignoring the etiquette he was usually so anal retentive about. "I do as well. Um… is there…any way I could see Ryoma?"

Rinko's face tightened and the lines on it seemed to deepen.

"I think it's lovely that you came to check on Ryoma. But I have to warn you, that you aren't the first one to try. I'm afraid he refuses to see anyone."

"Please," pleaded Tezuka, desperate all of a sudden, "Please just ask him. Tell him it's Tezuka. Tell him that I…there is something very important I need to tell him. Something has happened. Please, I…"

"Of course, dear," Rinko said, face softening in clear pity. "I'll tell him. For his sake I hope…I hope that he'll agree to see you."

And so Tezuka sat and waited. He watched her go up the stairs. He didn't know exactly how long she was gone. It felt like a millennium, regardless.

What he did know is when she came back down she was sporting a smile that looked as if it would tear her face in two.

And Tezuka did something he had not done in a very long time. He smiled right back.

_Where did I go wrong? _

_I lost a friend _

_Somewhere along in the bitterness_

_And I would have stayed up with you all night_

_Had I'd known how to save a life _

Ryoma didn't know why he agreed to see Tezuka. Tezuka, of all people-after he'd turned away Momo and Eiji, who had both been invaluable friends to him.

It wasn't that Ryoma blamed the other boy. He'd had enough time to brood and he'd realized, almost immediately, that this had been bound to happen from the moment Fuji had kissed him in the rain.

Tezuka had just accelerated the process for his own purposes. Somehow, though, even that didn't bother Ryoma much.

Compared to everything else, it really didn't matter at all.

When the door creaked open, Ryoma found himself seized with a desperate urge to hide under the covers. But he didn't.

He also found himself wishing he'd had time to bath, rather than just dousing himself with cold water and splashing on the aftershave he never wore. He had attempted to tame his wild mane-though days of being greasy and unkempt had served to make that difficult.

The selection of clean clothes was easy. It was the first time he'd changed out of his pajamas in days. A pair of shorts and a graphic T-shirt with a picture of a tennis ball on the front had been the first things in his closet and so that's what he had put on.

But still, when Tezuka entered the dim room and shut the door, Ryoma found himself feeling horribly inadequate.

The older boy stumbled at first, unused to the poor lighting in the room. His eyes wheeled around underneath his glasses, struggling to find their target. After a moment, they settled on Ryoma.

Tezuka's face shifted then. The strange mask of calm fell away and revealed a boy stricken with horror, confusion, and most prominently, guilt. Ryoma found himself mildly enjoying the last one.

It was Ryoma who broke the silence.

"Do I really look that bad?"

The hoarseness of his voice surprised even him. Tezuka winced.

"Ryoma, I…I'm so-,"

"Don't," Ryoma interrupted, gesturing for Tezuka to take a seat at the desk. "There isn't any point in that."

Tezuka fell silent and took his seat. His hazel eyes gleamed in the darkness and Ryoma could read the pain in them. In fact, it was quite similar to looking into a mirror.

"Why haven't you come to school?" Tezuka asked finally, clasping his hands together. "It's been weeks, Ryoma and no one has seen or heard from you. You can't go on this way-,"

"I can," Ryoma said dryly, drawing his knees to his chest. "I can do this as long as I like. Why is it that when everyone else wants to do something ridiculous, it's fine, but the one time I need –,"

"Ryoma, if you're referring to Fuji, I never approved of that, I tried to warn you-,"

"Yes," Ryoma spat bitterly, "That kiss of yours was a fantastic warning. Thanks."

Tezuka's mouth snapped shut. He looked near to tears.

"I can't apologize for kissing you," he mumbled under his breath. "Please don't ask me to. You don't know how long I've wanted to do that."

Ryoma was silent. His impassive olive eyes gave away no trace of guilt. It seemed that whatever hold Tezuka held over him had been broken when Fuji's front door slammed shut.

"Ryoma, please," Tezuka said gently, "I am sorry that I hurt you. I am sorry that Fuji hurt you, I tried…I was only ever trying to protect you-,"

"I don't need someone to protect me!" Ryoma found himself screaming. He bolted off the bed and onto his feet, fists clenched in fury. "Everyone has a fucking agenda and what I want doesn't matter! Protect me, use me, fuck me, keep me, break me!"

Ryoma's voice broke as he realized the truth of his words. Not once since this entire thing started had anyone asked him what he wanted. He'd been a pawn from the beginning- whether in Fuji's game or in Tezuka's jealous scheme, he'd always been nothing more than a trophy.

"I'm not a child!" Ryoma pressed on, anger giving way to staunch determination. "I am not a child who needs someone to coddle him! I don't need protection and I don't need anyone to tell me what I want! I know what I want!"

Tezuka's face hardened. He seemed to realize something then.

"What do you want, Ryoma?" he asked seriously, standing and closing the distance between them. Ryoma could taste the warm scent of coffee and licorice. That was Tezuka's scent- it was calm and steady, promising stability and strong arms to hold him when he was afraid. It promised happiness, simple and clean. Ryoma breathed it in, let it fill him up. He let himself enjoy it for the last time.

And then he reached up with a shaking hand and pressed his warm palm against Tezuka's cool cheek.

"I want you to let me go."

And then Ryoma leaned up on his tip toes and pressed a chaste kiss to Tezuka's lips. And when Ryoma pulled away, there was no more doubt in his heart.

Suddenly, it was very clear to him what he needed to do. He looked at Tezuka, who was gazing off into the distance.

"I have to go now."

Tezuka blinked. And then slowly, he told Ryoma the message he'd been sent to deliver in the first place.

And Ryoma turned and left him behind.

_So hold tight just when you think you've got it_

_Alright _

_Fate comes and then you drop it _

_Tonight I just hate to see you suffer _

Fuji woke up in a white room. That in itself struck him as odd, because he hated white. It was too pure. It showed every little last taint and spot. Fuji would never understand why people wanted to see things like that.

It would drive him crazy.

The second thing Fuji noticed is that there were several people in his room. Eiji, was all but sitting on top of him and the rest of the Seigaku regulars were scattered about the room, sitting on folding chairs or standing.

Well…not all. There was one missing. There would always be one missing.

Tezuka was the first to notice that the tensai was awake.

"Fuji," he breathed, "Finally."

Fuji recognized Tezuka's mock impatience for what it really was-relief. So the captain did still care for him. Or at least, like him enough not to wish him dead.

Eiji shot up from his perch and Fuji winced as the red head flung his loopy arms around Fuji's neck.

"Fujiko!" he whined piteously, and Fuji could feel a cool wetness on his shoulder.

"Eiji," Fuji rasped, running his hand across his friend's back. "Come now, don't start crying again."

Inui tapped his glasses and cleared his throat. "Let him cry, Fuji. The doctors had given us a rather dim statistic. You are very lucky."

It was then that Fuji noticed the various needles stuck in his left arm.

"Wait," he said dumbly, "What happened to me?"

Momoshiro scratched the back of his head, attempting to give a reassuring grin.

"Well, er-I don't know how to put this Fuji, but you've kind of-,"

"Momo," Fuji interjected politely, mustering an insincere smile. "Please."

"What the idiot is trying to say," offered Kaidoh, who had one arm slung around the purple eyed boy's shoulder, "Is that you've got a brain tumor."

Fuji blinked. "I see."

Eiji had begun to cry harder now and Fuji could feel teardrops trickle down his collar bone.

"You _had_ a brain tumor," corrected Taka helpfully, brandishing a teddy bear with a card pinned to its front, "They took it out."

Fuji blinked again. "Oh."

Oishi stepped forward and gently pried a bawling Eiji off of Fuji. Fuji shot the other boy a silent glance of gratitude.

"You're going to be fine now," Oishi reassured him, "The doctors think they got it all. It was pressing against your cerebral cortex…or something like that. They said that you should have come in sooner though, it could've killed you if it had been left alone a bit more."

Eiji ceased his crying, rubbing at his eyes with his fists. "Fuji you idiot!" he blurted out, "You idiot! The doctors asked me, they asked me "But I don't get it, he should have been in absolute agony, why didn't he come in sooner?" Idiot, idiot! And you almost died, you almost died, you-,"

"Eiji, I'm sorry," mumbled Fuji, pressing a hand to his head. A dull pain had begun to build. "You were right."

"Damn straight!"The acrobat cried, "I swear to God I could kill you!"

Fuji offered up a weak smile. "Well, you know-,"

"Fuji-senpai," a clear voice interjected, "It really isn't that funny."

And it was then that Fuji noticed the open door. And the person standing in it.

Ryoma's olive gaze was smooth and calm. The scared, hysterical boy Fuji had last seen was no longer there.

The boy standing before him was the cocky brat he'd fallen for in the first place.

"Ryoma," he breathed, sitting up fully. His heart leapt into his throat. "You…" his voice trailed off.

Oishi cleared his throat and shot a very pointed glance at the onlookers. The room cleared in a matter of moments, though Eiji had to be bodily dragged out.

It was Ryoma who spoke first.

"You scared me," he whispered, pulling at his shirt. It was the tiniest bit too small, exposing the most tantalizing portion of tanned flesh.

Fuji swallowed. "I…"

"Don't say anything. Just listen." Ryoma's eyes were blazing. Fuji had seen that fire before. Those eyes were blazing that when Ryoma had told him in the rain,

_"I want you." _

The fire that nothing in the world could ever put out.

"I love you," Ryoma said firmly, crossing to where Fuji lay in stunned silence. The freshman was now close enough for Fuji to reach out and touch. "You broke my heart. I cried non-stop for weeks. I wanted to die, Fuji. I wanted to reach for a steak knife and tear my heart out. That is how high you get me and how far I fall. And I refuse to fall any further than I have already. So if you are going to sit there and pretend it all meant nothing then I need to hear you say it. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't love me. "

Fuji's lower lip quavered. A ringing had started in his ears. "Ryoma…can this wait? I don't feel up to this right now-,"

Or ever. Fuji would much rather have avoided this conversation forever. Because Ryoma had asked him to do the very thing he could not.

"Tough." Ryoma flat lined, clenched fists tightening. His small shoulders were held high. "Answer me now, Fuji. No more games. No more playing by your fucked up rules."

"Ryoma, I already told you. Stop embarrassing yourself." The words tasted like acid as they passed Fuji's lips. It took everything he had to complete the sentence. "Please just go. I don't feel well."

Ryoma didn't flinch. Somewhere between now and the time Fuji had broken him, the youngest regular had gotten steel in his spine. And he wasn't bending.

"I'm not leaving until you answer me. What's so hard about it? If you really hate me that much, then it should be easy."

Fuji's heart rate continue to increase. An electric tingling had started at the base of his neck and was traveling down his back.

"Ryoma-,"

"No! Tell me!"

"I can't!" blurted Fuji before he could stop himself. A wave of pain crashed over him and he doubled over, fresh tears springing to the back of his lids. "Don't you understand, Ryoma? I can't say that. I just…"

"Why?" Ryoma's voice had dropped to a barely audible whisper. He knelt beside the bed, pressing his palms flat against Fuji's knees. "Tell me why you can't say it, Fuji."

"Why are you doing this?" groaned Fuji, struggling to keep the tears from coming. He couldn't cry, he had no right to cry. "After what I said to you, why are you still here?"

"Because," Ryoma said simply, "You belong to me."

Fuji looked up, unable to stop himself. Three crystalline tears slid down his cheeks.

Ryoma's olive eyes were blazing and locked with his own. And Fuji couldn't look away.

Because that was the moment he realized that he was hopelessly ensnared by Echizen Ryoma.

And when Ryoma leaned forward and gave him a kiss that took the remaining breathe out of his body; Fuji realized that Ryoma was never going to let him go.

And strangely, it was alright with him. He was still afraid, yes. Still terrified to his very core that he would break this delicate, most precious gift he had been given.

But then Ryoma broke the kiss and said, "Fuji-senpai. I know you love me. You don't have to say it yet. As long as you stay. Promise me that you'll stay."

And as Fuji re-closed the distance between them, the tensai realized something else.

Yes, he was afraid. But this….

This was far more important.

_So I lay my head back down _

_And I lift my hands and pray _

_To be only yours I pray _

_To be only yours _

_I know now _

_You're my only hope _


	15. Epilogue:The Forever Game

**Author's Note: Welcome all, to the final chapter of Fire and Wind. There is so much I want to say but I will leave that to the story. I hope you enjoy it. **

_Epilogue: The Forever Game_

_And I miss you _

_Most of all _

_When autumn leaves _

_Start to fall_

It was raining on graduation day. The forecast had been wrong; the sky was stormy and grey. The sun strained through the clouds in weak bursts. But that did nothing to dull the atmosphere. The third years were radiant as they made their way down the aisle.

Tezuka led the procession with slow, steady steps that were always the same distance apart. His fly away hair was neatly combed back so that his brilliant hazel eyes were fully visible. His head was held high and his voice did not waver as he accepted the diploma on behalf of the entire year.

When he turned to face the audience, there was the smallest glint of a smile on his face. The room erupted into cheers. Eiji was shameless; his boyish face was already streaked with tears of joy. Inui stood, tall and unmoving, with an easy air of confidence. Kawamura was clearly trying to restrain tears but his upper lip was shaking visibly. Oishi was flawless at Tezuka's right hand, clutching the Japanese flag with steady hands and keeping his gaze straight ahead.

And then there was Fuji.

Fuji was grace itself. His soft lips were parted in a soft, gentle smile and his azure eyes were open and clear. When the headmaster called his name, he all but glided to the podium and took his rightful place as class speaker.

The room fell silent.

Even from the very back row, Ryoma could see the glint in Fuji's eye. It was wholly triumphant.

Ryoma saw this as the perfect opportunity to quietly rise from his seat and slip out the back door. He didn't need to hear it.

He didn't need to hear Fuji promise that though they were all moving on to separate walks of life, they would always have a bond that would last them forever. Ryoma didn't believe in that sort of thing and he knew that if anything, Fuji believed it even less.

Ryoma didn't realize his feet were carrying him to the tree he had lounged under his very first day at Seigaku until he was there.

This was his tree. And then, slowly, it had become Momoshiro's tree as well. And then Eiji's. And then Fuji's. Every day they ate lunch under this old tree, Eiji and Momoshiro would often compete to see who could ingest the most sugar before passing out. Fuji rarely ate; he was more of a dinner person.

Ryoma let out a little snort. All the little details he had picked up about the honey haired tensai over the past few weeks could fill a book.

Fuji didn't like tea, just hot water and lemon. He drank his coffee black, except on Sunday mornings. On Sunday mornings he would add a single cream. Fuji also insisted on cooking every time Ryoma came over. Salmon was a specialty of his. Ryoma didn't like salmon but he never left a single bit of food on the plate.

Fuji was a morning person. Ryoma had made it a point of rising early, merely to see the sweet, nostalgic look that danced in Fuji's crystal eyes. Never mind that getting up before noon went against his natural instincts. Ryoma had long since realized that everything about this relationship went against his natural instincts, that didn't stop him from clinging to it like a desperate child.

Ryoma ran a calloused hand across the tree bark. It was damp, and only then was Ryoma reminded that the rain had not yet ceased. His lips twisted upwards into a bitter smile.

_I wish it were autumn, _he thought flatly, _I wish we were at the beginning again. _

_No, I don't believe you_

_When you say _

_Don't come around here no more_

_So don't pretend to _

_Not love me at all_

The pictures took the longest. The parents of the Seigaku regulars all wanted countless amounts of pictures; Eiji's mother took at least six. First just the third years: Eiji, Tezuka, Kawamura, Oishi, Inui and Fuji. Then Momo, Kaidoh, and Ryoma joined the group and there they stood: the Seigaku regulars. For the last time. The large, uncharacteristic smile Tezuka sported felt as if it would tear his face in half. But he didn't let it drop. It was just this one day. This one last day that he was captain. This one last day that they could call themselves a team.

After this, everything would be different. And so Tezuka saw no harm in smiling, though there was a deep, dark anguish in the pit of his belly that threatened to rise up and choke him. He smiled; he threw his arms around Fuji's shoulder like nothing had ever happened between the two of them. He took Eiji's hand when the red head looked as if he could stave off the tears no longer and reassured him not to cry, that were even brighter days ahead.

It's a wonder Tezuka managed to say that with a straight face. That, second only to renouncing his feelings for Ryoma, was the greatest lie he'd ever told. For Tezuka knew, without any shadow of a doubt, that the golden age had passed.

Nothing perfect could last. The best days, the passion, the turmoil, the friendship, the brotherhood…all of that would ebb away, slowly but surely, until there was nothing left but these pictures.

Someday soon, Tezuka would pass one of his former teammates-one of his former brothers-in the hallway and little more than a half smile and a nod would pass between them. Conversation would dry up, the calls would stop coming, and the reunions would become painfully awkward until they died out altogether. There would be nothing to talk about. Tennis had united them and without it, they were all fundamentally different. The others didn't see it yet…but they would. Very soon, they would.

Finally, the picture taking ceased. Oishi's mother came up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Tezuka smiled politely and did not pull away.

"Mama," he said sweetly, "Don't tell me you are going to cry too?"

The older woman pulled back and looked him in the face, eyes watery. She had Oishi's eyes. The type of eyes that were incapable of keeping any secrets.

"It took me two years to convince you to call me that," she chuckled, squeezing both of his hands tightly. Her face was gentle. "I hope I will still see you often, Kuni-chan. Our door is always open for you."

Tezuka swallowed back the lump that formed in his throat. He blinked, shocked at how her words touched him.

"I promise." He blurted out suddenly, before he could stop himself.

_Tezuka. You can't keep that promise. You know you can't…_

He bit his lip and once again, forced himself to smile. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Tezuka caught Ryoma's gaze.

Ryoma did not look away. Tezuka's false grin softened into a soft, sad little smile. He titled his head back and shut his eyes, letting the newly emerging sunlight flicker across his face.

_It was sunny like this…the first day I saw you…the sun broke through the clouds…and you were there. _

_Always there_.

"I promise."

_Nothing's quite the same now _

_I just say your name now _

_But it's not so bad _

_You're only the best I ever had_

"Eij…"

"Shut up, Fuji. I'm not done crying yet."

Eiji buried his wet face deeper into Fuji's soft, cotton T-shirt. It smelled like laundry detergent. Eiji moved his face so that his nose was pressed into the crook of Fuji's soft elbow. There it was…the scent he'd been looking for. The only smell that could put the world back together again: lemon and wasabi.

The air in Fuji's bedroom was cool and clear. The curtains had been drawn back and the silver moonlight flickered in, illuminating the two boys huddled on the bed, grasping onto each other so that time would not tear them apart.

It had been an unspoken agreement that after the graduation party, Eiji and Ryoma would spend the night at Fuji's house.

Ryoma hadn't wanted to talk. After dinner, he'd quietly retired to the guest room and hadn't emerged since.

Fuji had let him be, and convinced Eiji, with much difficulty, to do the same.

Eiji had been crying sporadically for several hours now. Each time, Fuji would pull him close until the fit subsided.

This one had been going on for quite a while.

"Eiji," Fuji tried again, "You're overreacting."

"Shut up," Eiji snapped. "You're under reacting. So there."

Fuji chuckled softly and kissed the top of Eiji's forehead.

"You know that I'll always be here, right?"

Eiji didn't hesitate. Without a shadow of a doubt, he answered the question.

"Yes."

Fuji let out a contented hum.

"So why on earth are you crying?"

A sharp knock on the door cut Eiji off before he could respond.

Fuji was up in an instant. Eiji grinned wryly.

"Fuji-senpai," Ryoma's soft voice said tentatively, from the other side of the door. "Could you please come into my room for a moment?"

Eiji raised an eyebrow and shot Fuji a very suggestive look. Fuji's crystal eyes twinkled with bewilderment.

It was usually Fuji who instigated the couple's make-out sessions. In fact…other than that day in the hospital, it was _always_ Fuji.

And far too often, Fuji was seized with the urge to further corrupt his young innocent in the most inappropriate of places. It had gotten to the point where Ryoma refused to take a bath at Fuji's house unless Eiji agreed to stand guard.

Fuji shot Eiji a quick, apologetic glance and then he was out the door. Eiji got a fleeting glance at Ryoma's face before the door shut. It was drawn, tired, and pale. Eiji frowned.

Maybe Ryoma was more bothered by this whole thing than he was letting on.

Eiji sighed. There was no use getting upset. Things changed, time marched forward, relentlessly. No one could stop it.

In these situations, the only thing that helped was tears and chocolate. Eiji scanned the room, looking for his schoolbag. He always kept a spare candy bar…or four…on him at all times. He squinted; it was hard to see in the dim light. He hopped off the bed and went for the candy. The loud, obnoxious blare of his ringtone, which was the theme to his favorite children's show, nearly stopped his heart.

Eiji let out a string of curse words that would have made even Fuji blush.

_It's past midnight. Who the hell…?_

Eiji picked up the phone without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

There was silence on the other end, then some shuffling, and finally a hesitant voice said,

"Kikimaru-san?"

Eiji knew that voice. His mind grasped for a name, and after a moment, he had it.

"Yumi-san?"

It was Oishi's girlfriend. They had never exchanged more than six or seven words with each other. So why was she calling him now… and at this hour?

"Yes…I…Kikimaru-san, please forgive me for calling you this late, it's awfully rude of me but I…I was wondering if you were available to…to meet me? I…I'm going on vacation with my family and my flight leaves very early in the morning so if you…I know this is sudden but…do you think…could you meet me now?"

Eiji blinked.

"What? You mean…right now?"

Yumi's voice became a near whimper.

"I am so sorry, I should never have called this…please forgive me for my rudeness, I am so sorry, I will go-,"

She sounded desperate. Eiji felt pity overtake him. He had to admit, he had judged this girl harshly for reasons and events that she had no control over.

"No, Yumi-san, it's alright, really. Please don't worry about it. I can meet you, sure. I can be ready in half an hour."

There was silence and then Yumi let out a relieved sigh.

"Thank you so much, Kikimaru-san. Where…?"

"Do you live near Tyne Park? I could meet you there; it's safe at night because the police station is across the street."

"That's actually perfect. So…I'll see you in half an hour?"

Eiji bit his lip. He couldn't back out now.

"I'll be there."

_So I put my arms around you, around you _

_And I know that I'll be leaving soon _

_My eyes are on you, they're on you _

_And you see that I can't stop shaking _

Ryoma didn't even bother to shut the door. As soon as Fuji entered the room, Ryoma was on him. The steady pounding in his head matched the electric thrum of his heartbeat as Fuji's lips met his own. Ryoma didn't hold back this time, all his inhibitions had been discarded the moment he'd realized the truth.

There was no more time to be shy, to play coy, to set boundaries. There was simply no more time.

Ryoma wanted it all. And he wanted it now.

Fuji was more than happy to oblige. The tensai used the tip of his tongue to pry open Ryoma's mouth and explore every crevice, every hot little corner. Ryoma gasped into the kiss, letting out a guttural moan he hadn't thought himself capable of when Fuji's hand slid under his thin shirt.

_Yes… oh, God…yes…_

Fuji's long, graceful fingers trailed circles up and down Ryoma's belly, flitting up to his nipples and tweaking them every few seconds. Ryoma broke the kiss, desperate for air, and threw his head back, allowing the tensai access to his neck.

Fuji's soft, slightly damp kisses sent a sharp thrill up his back and he almost lost his footing.

"Bed," Ryoma managed to grunt, voice high and thin with desire.

Within seconds, Fuji had pushed Ryoma down on top of the covers, all the while not ceasing his ravaging.

The hand caressing Ryoma's chest moved southwards, winding itself into the waistband of Ryoma's shorts. Snap, pull, snap, pull.

Ryoma could take no more. His heart felt as if it was going to fly out of his chest.

He reached up a shaking hand and found Fuji's chest, clawing for the other boy's shirt, slipping his sweating palm under it, tracing the well defined, delicate muscles. He felt Fuji's body quiver, ever so slightly, and the fire in his own belly began to roar. His brave hand slipped down further still, further still…

And then, without any warning, Fuji was off of him.

The older boy's porcelain face was flushed, his crystal eyes were open and striking, but the smile on his lips was apologetic. Ryoma struggled to catch his breath, scrambling to his knees in furious indignation. His skin was on fire, begging for Fuji's touch.

"What are you doing?" Ryoma breathed hotly, tearing off his own shirt in the same motion and throwing it into the corner. "Don't stop."

Fuji opened his mouth to speak but paused when his eyes fell on Ryoma's bare chest. They burned bright with lust but still, Fuji shook his head.

"I think that's enough, Ryoma." Fuji said, usually calm voice wavering. "I don't think I can stop myself if we go on this way."

Ryoma ignored the tensai. He was too busy working at his zipper. Fuji's hand shot out and covered his own. The third year's face was bewildered.

"Ryoma, what are you doing? I said I think we should stop-,"

"I don't want you to stop." Ryoma said flatly, knocking Fuji's hand aside and yanking down his pants. They soon followed the shirt to some indiscriminate corner. Fuji's breath hitched in his throat.

The bulge in Ryoma's underwear was very visible. Fuji tactfully averted his eyes, though not before Ryoma saw his mouth part with want.

"I don't want you to stop." Ryoma repeated, reaching down to remove his final piece of clothing. His heart was beating so loudly he could barely hear and the ache in his groin was building to a near painful level. Though his hands were shaking and the last bits of his self control were screaming in protest, he was determined to complete his objective. "I want more."

Ryoma's voice was now pleading. His hands began to shake even more and it took everything he had not to break eye contact.

"I want you…I want you to be my first. I want to have sex. I want it now."

Fuji's cerulean orbs flashed with something that Ryoma had never seen their before.

"No."

Ryoma blinked.

"What? Bu-,"

"You don't want to have sex with me." Fuji's voice was flat and hard. "You don't want to do this."

Ryoma felt as if someone had driven a knife between his ribs. It hurt to draw breathe.

"What?" he whispered, voice shaking with the effort of remaining level, "Are you blind? Can't you see…can't you see how much I want you? How much I want this for us…I want you inside of me…I want you to be…"

"Just because your body responds to me, doesn't mean-,"

"But I love you!" Ryoma cried suddenly, unable to contain it any longer. "Don't you understand? I fucking _love you_…so…much…"

Fuji's gaze snapped back to meet him, mouth hanging open in a disbelieving little part. He reached out a tentative hand.

"Ryoma-,"

"Don't touch me!" Ryoma choked out, hating the tears that gathered at the back of his throat, at the back of his eyes. He was out of bed in an instant, stumbling towards the corner where his clothes lay. His cheeks, his eyes, his whole body stung with humiliation.

Fuji's voice grew tight with concern. He too, rose from the bed and made another grab for Ryoma, but he tore away.

"Ryoma, it's just sex, it has nothing to do with-,"

Ryoma whirled on him, golden orbs swimming with tears. His vision blurred, but he could very clearly see the horrified look on his senpai's face.

"It has everything to do with it!" he spat bitterly, clutching the wadded up ball of clothing to his chest. "You can't fuck me, because then you'd be permanently connected to me. You can't love me, because then you'd actually have to care about someone. You'd have to give a piece of yourself, your precious fucking secrets; you'd have to give them all away. You can't give me…you can't…"

The tears spilled over and Ryoma was powerless to stop them. Fuji stood transfixed, eyes wide and hand half stretched out in penance.

"You can't give me a reason to stay." Ryoma's voice broke; the sobs rose up and blocked his throat. He was gasping now, like a child, and he did not care. "I…have…to go…don't you…understand…I have…to…go!"

Fuji stepped forward, clear eyes clouded with sorrow.

"No, Ryoma," he said, panic edging into his tone, "No, you don't have to go, you don't have to-,"

"I'm moving back to America. They want me to train for the US Open and I said yes. Everyone else already knows." Ryoma whispered. "In two days, I'll be gone."

The silence that hung in the air then was deafening. Fuji stood still as a statue, bright blue eyes wide with shock. They were not sad. Or angry. Just…empty.

Then, finally, Fuji spoke, in little more than whisper.

"That's…wonderful."

Ryoma felt his heart stop.

"What?" he gasped.

"I'm so proud of you." Fuji's emphatic nod was genuine. His sweet, tender smile and easy chuckle left no room for doubt. "I'm so happy for you! This is what you wanted! This is your dream!"

Ryoma could've burst into fresh tears. He could've cursed; he could've hit Fuji with all his strength. But he did none of those things.

He laughed. The tears leaked down his face and mingled with his laughter.

"I'm an idiot," he managed, between a laugh that sounded too much like a sob, "I really am. I came here tonight looking for a reason to stay. Can you believe that? I wanted a reason to stay, a reason to forget tennis. What I've always lived for, the only thing that's ever really mattered. I came here tonight looking for something more important."

The laughing ceased. Fuji's face was blank, his eyes were pleading. But for what, Ryoma did not know.

"I wanted you to be the reason." Ryoma finished finally, casting his face downwards, so that his bangs hid his expression. His voice was soft and void of any emotion. "I wanted Fuji Syusuke to be my reason. But I'm…I'm really stupid. That's impossible. Because having you…and not having you all at once…"

Ryoma raised his head, golden eyes spilling tears freely, bitter smile etched onto his face.

"That's the worst kind of alone."

And then Ryoma left. He ran from the room, he ran from the house, he ran down the street and into the night.

And then, soon, mercifully soon, he would run to America.

And he would be gone.

_Time, where did you go?  
Why did you leave me here alone?  
Wait, don't go so fast  
I'm missing the moments as they pass  
So wait for me this time_

Eiji's conversation with Yumi lasted exactly twenty minutes. The girl was very precise. There was no crying, no tears, and no dramatics. It was simple.

And so now, at 1:49 AM, Eiji stood beneath Oishi's second story bedroom window, holding a handful of pebbles.

It was simple.

"_Eiji-san, thank you for coming on such short notice…please forgive my rudeness. But I just didn't feel right leaving like this. I had to tell you…" _

Eiji threw the first pebble. It missed. He'd never been a very good shot. He stood on his tiptoes, extending himself to his full height, and tried again.

"_You need to know." _

This one hit, but it was merely a graze. Eiji moved to the left, to get a better angle. He threw the third pebble.

"_Oishi is too kind to say so himself…" _

It missed. Eiji launched his fourth pebble.

"_And too stupid to realize that his kindness is most cruel where it is most generous." _

This time it hit dead center in the middle of the glass. Eiji's breath caught in his throat.

And then he appeared.

Oishi's olive eyes were cloudy with sleep. His baggy, worn blue pajamas were crumpled and stuck out at strange angles. But it only took him a moment to recognize Eiji.

"_What I'm trying to say is…" _

Oishi shoved open the window, shock and disbelief mingling with the sleepy expression on his round, boyish face.

The years hadn't changed him. Time had not scathed him. He was still Oishi. Sweet to the point of stupidity: Oishi.

"Eiji? What's wrong? What are you-,"

"_He loves you." _

"I love you."

"_He has always loved you." _

"I have always loved you."

"_And he always will." _

"And I always will."

Oishi's face was an uncomprehending mask for a split second, before breaking into the brightest smile Eiji had ever seen.

"Forever?"

Eiji only laughed a bright, carefree laugh that left no room for doubt.

"Stupid."

_Time can't change this._

_Time may change everything else._

_But it can't change this._

_So I put my arms around you around you_

_And I hope that I will do no wrong_

_My eyes are on you they're on you  
And I hope that you won't hurt me_

They all came to say goodbye. Luckily someone, probably Tezuka or Oishi, had warned them not to make fools of themselves and cry in the middle of an airport. Ryoma made a mental note to send whoever that wise, wise soul was lots of souvenirs.

Inui came first. He handed Ryoma a digital wrist watch that automatically adjusted its setting based on location. It also worked underwater and could do math through Calculus. If Ryoma hadn't known better, he would've said that Inui's glasses were misted over.

Next came Kawamura. He brought three jars of the special, homemade soy sauce that Ryoma loved so much. The power player gave Ryoma a smile that almost reduced the first year to tears himself.

Then Kaidoh presented his gift: a gift card for tennis supplies at a major, international chain store. The viper also put Ryoma in a skull crushing headlock before letting him go.

Oishi and Eiji combined forces and gave Ryoma a truly stunning scrapbook containing every match, practice, and hidden moment that the creepy fan girls had been able to capture on film. Eiji was the first to break the no crying rule.

As Ryoma allowed himself to be folded in the red-head's arms, he could not help but feel an overwhelming sense of affection for his senpai.

"Thank you for everything, Eiji." He whispered softly, "I am…I am really going to miss you."

Eiji only nodded. He was too choked up to speak. His obsidian eyes were filled with such pain that it hurt to watch, and Ryoma had to look away.

Next came Momoshiro. The purple eyed boy locked eyes with Ryoma and then, without warning, slugged the first year across the face.

"That," he said simply, "Is for leaving us. And I didn't get you a damn present. Presents are for people who aren't coming back."

Ryoma pressed a hand to his cheek, golden eyes crinkled in a smile.

"Ah, Momo-senpai," he responded simply. "I don't need a present."

And with that, Momoshiro wrapped the smaller boy in a bear hug with enough force to crush a small animal.

"Cocky brat."

"Moron."

And then, lastly, came Tezuka.

The captain made no grand speech. He put on no show. He simply walked up to Ryoma and wordlessly, handed him a small box wrapped in blue paper.

"Thank you, buchou."

"Don't open it until you get there."

"Alright, buchou."

They locked eyes. Dazzling gold met almond hazel. The rookie and the captain. The wild card and the pillar. So alike, yet fundamentally different. Unstoppable together. Some would even say perfect.

"Don't lose, Ryoma."

"I know."

"Now go. You'll miss your flight."

Almost as if the echo Tezuka's thoughts, a voice came over the loudspeaker. The flight was boarding: last call.

Ryoma opened his arms. The team poured into them all at once, crushing him beneath their weight, their warmth.

Their love.

His team. His friends, his brothers. His family. The best thing he would ever have or ever wanted to.

And then Ryoma turned and walked away, without looking back.

He couldn't look back. There was nothing left to break.

_I think I'll go to Boston _

_I think I'll start a new life _

_I think I'll start it over _

_Where no one knows my name _

It was raining when Ryoma's plane landed. It rained the entire car ride to the hotel and the entire night. The next morning provided no change. It was still raining. The sky was lamenting.

Finally, Ryoma could take it no longer. He changed into his tennis clothes, grabbed a visor and his racket, and headed for the local courts. He could've played at the hotel courts, but for some reason, he really didn't want to.

The court was outdoors, but Ryoma knew that with the US Open so close, there were bound to be some serious players around. True passion couldn't be stopped by a little moisture.

The rain sloshed beneath Ryoma's sneakers and pooled into his socks, but he paid it little mind. The visor kept his vision clear and the grip on his racket was slip proof. That was all he needed.

As he suspected, there were a few brave souls on the court who had braved the weather. Three young looking kids, probably not much older than him. Two Australian boys, brothers by the looks of it and a girl. The boys introduced themselves as Richard and Dan. They were only 15 and 17.

Ryoma's English was still flawless, so in no time they had organized a doubles match. Somehow, Ryoma ended up with the girl. Her long, dark black hair was plastered to her face by the rain but she didn't seem to mind at all.

Her clear, blue eyes and porcelain skin made Ryoma's heart clench. He shook his head.

_No. _

"I'm Rin," she said politely, extending a wet hand. "Rin Noda. Nice to meet you."

Ryoma nearly dropped his racket.

"You speak Japanese?"

She laughed.

"Is that your name then? 'You speak Japanese'?"

Ryoma stuttered for a moment before words came to him.

"Ah…sorry. I'm Ryoma. Ryoma Echizen."

Rin grinned at him.

"My father is Japanese and I spend my summers there. It's nice to see more Japanese pros out this year."

Ryoma felt excitement well up in his stomach.

"You-you're playing in the tournament?"

She laughed again.

"I know, I look young, but I'm really sixteen. And I'm not out here in the rain because it's good for my health, you know."

"Are there…are there more people like us? Kids, I mean?"

Rin's grin widened. "It was just us three. Welcome to the US Open's kids table, newbie."

One of the boys, Dan, shouted across the court for them to stop chit chatting and play already.

Ryoma was more than happy to oblige. It had been far too long since he had really played: entirely lost himself in a game of tennis. No fear, no stress, no pain. Just tennis. He'd almost forgotten how good it felt.

The boys were very good. They seemed to read each other's thoughts. It was nearly impossible to get a ball between them. They played without looking at each other, with tacit communication.

It reminded Ryoma of another doubles pair he knew.

Rin was a dragon on the court. Ryoma couldn't think of a better word to describe her. She was a power player, plain and simple, smacking the ball with force most girls (and boys, for that matter) could only dream of. But yet she had perfect control: fierce and graceful, just like a dragon.

The match eventually ended in a stalemate. The clouds now began to threaten thunder. They agreed to meet again the next day.

Ryoma watched them go. He wasn't quite ready to leave yet.

He gathered his bag and ducked under a large oak tree overlooking the court. It wasn't perfect, he was still getting wet, but at least now he had some protection.

It was then that he remembered Tezuka's gift. It still lay unopened in the bottom of his tennis bag.

He dug the little blue box out and studied it for a moment. It was impossible to guess at what was inside it. Tezuka was the least predictable person he knew.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him and he swallowed back a dry sob. With shaking fingers, numb from cold, Ryoma unwrapped the gift. Inside, lay a simple silver chain with a tennis ball charm on the end of it. Ryoma ran his finger across it and found a slightly raised portion along the side-a latch. It was a locket. Beneath the necklace, there was a piece of plain notebook paper folded in two. Ryoma's name was scrawled across the front in Tezuka's perfect, sprawling calligraphy.

Ryoma felt tears well in his eyes at the familiar sight. He blinked them back and unfolded the note.

_Dear Ryoma, _

_I bought this locket for myself when I was a first year. You must think it silly-buying myself such a gift. But back then, there was no one important enough for me to give it to. It's a lucky charm, supposedly. I hope it keeps you safe. Be strong. _

_Tezuka _

Silent teardrops trickled down Ryoma's face and he quickly folded the letter away, so that no harm would come to it. He tucked it inside his jacket, right next to his heart.

_For every time you fall apart _

_There'll be a soul to guide your journey _

_But if you choose to turn away _

_There in the mirror you'll see my face _

It was dark when Ryoma finally gathered his things and started to head back towards the hotel. The rain had finally stopped, leaving only a light, misting drizzle in its wake. The locket was cool against his neck. There were no pedestrians or cars on the road.

The quiet was strangely calming. The pale moon was just rising in the sky. Ryoma stopped for a moment under a street lamp, drinking in the quiet.

So when two arms wrapped themselves around his waist he didn't have time to react.

When those same arms spun him around and dipped him backwards, so that he was wholly dependent on the person standing before them, he didn't have the strength to pull away.

And when Fuji Syusuke looked down at him with perfectly clear, crystal blue eyes that glowed with pure, unadulterated sweetness, Ryoma was powerless to move. He could not speak, he had no breath.

"I couldn't give you a reason to stay," Fuji's voice broke the silence, high and soft, yet pulsing with fierce intensity, "Because I am not enough. I am not nearly enough for that. You are everything and I am nothing. You are the savior and I am the one who is lost. I could never presume to be your reason. But I am yours, if you'll take me. And I will follow you wherever you will go." Fuji took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I love you."

Ryoma still could not speak. Fuji pulled him upward, so that he was standing on his own two feet. But still he could not speak. His entire body was trembling like a leaf.

Fuji.

Fuji.

Fuji.

"How…" he finally managed to stutter, in a cracked little voice. "Why…"

"You aren't the only one who got a call from the US Open." Fuji said simply, brushing a strand of his damp honey brown hair back from his porcelain forehead. His eyes were burning more brightly than Ryoma had ever seen.

Ryoma's heart stopped.

"You're…here."

Fuji's cherry lips titled upwards in a tender smile. A true smile. The smile that had capture Ryoma's heart and still had it.

"Yes."

"You're not leaving."

"No."

"You love me."

"Yes."

"We have…time?" Tears sprung to Ryoma's eyes as the realization of what was happening hit him full on, like a shock to the heart.

Fuji was here.

Fuji was staying.

And Fuji was _his._

It seemed impossible. It seemed too good to be true. And Ryoma didn't care.

Fuji raised his hands and cupped Ryoma's face, touch soft as a feather yet filled with an urgency that let Ryoma know the tensai had no intention of letting go.

"We have forever."

And when Fuji lowered his lips to meet Ryoma's own, a very strange thing happened.

Ryoma believed him.

_So I put my arms around you, around you _

_And I'll never let you go _

_My eyes are on you _

_You _

**Final Author's Note: Thank you all. This has been a fantastic experience and words cannot express my joy that all of you chose to share this with me. I am actually toying with the idea of writing a sequel…but my decision will ultimately be based on you all's feedback. I leave it in your very capable hands. Thank you all. **


	16. News and Announcements

Announcement!

_Well, I've done it. The sequel is officially here. Go ahead. Eat your hearts out. _


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